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ADVENTURERS 


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JEAN  KENYON  MACKENZIE 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/africanadventureOOmackiala 


TWO  HAUGHTY  SCHOOLBOYS  IN   KAMERUN 


AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 


By  JEAN  KENYON  MACKENZIE 


Published  by 

THE  CENTRAL  COMMITTEE  ON  THE  UNITED 

STUDY  OF  FOREIQN  MISSIONS 

West  Medforcj'  Mass. 

and  the 

MISSIONARY  EDUCATION  MOVEMENT 

OF  THE  UNITED  STATES 

AND  CANADA 


Copjrright  1917 

THE  CENTRAL  COMMITTEE  ON  THE 

UNITED  STUDY  OF  FOREIGN 

MISSIONS 


VMMONT  PRINTINa   COMPANY,    SaAfrLCBORO 


3500 

MS 
/^I7 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  i 

I.    The  Family  of  Akulu  Mejo 7 

II.    White  Men  and  their  Adventures o . .  31 

III.  Assam  tells  more  about  Livingstone. .....  51 

IV.  An  Adventure  with  the  Dwarfs 73 

V.    Adventures  of  Assam  and  Mejo 89 

VI.    The  Return  of  the  Adventurers 105 

Reading  List 118 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Faciag 
Page 

Two  Haughty  Schoolboys  in  Kamerun         .  Frontispiece 

Sawing  Lumber  by  Hand     ......  5 

Carrying  Poles  for  the  New  Church  Building  at  Melet 

— Too  Economical  to  buy  a  Wagon           ...  5 

Congregation  of  Ngqokwem  Church  imder  Nat'l  Bapt. 

Conv.  (Composed  of  American  Negroes)           •         •  12 

The  Agricultural  Exhibit 16 

African  Burden  Bearers        ......  33 

Canoe  on  Kamerun  River     ......  37 

Children  of  the  Missionary  and  the  Tusks  of  an  Ele- 
phant        .........  44 

Medicine  and  Charms  turned  over  to  Southern  Meth- 
odist Missionaries  by  an  African  Convert          .         .  44 

A  Great  Chief 48 

Yoxmg  Ziilu  Warriors            ......  53 

The  Boys  and  the  Camera  ......  60 

One  of  17,000  Schoolboys  in  Southern  Kamerun           .  69 

"Just  a  Bit  Shy" 76 

The  Mango  Tree  in  the  Village 85 

The  Dead  Leopard 85 

Basket  Makers  in  the  North  East  Congo     ...  92 

Some  Apprentices  and  the  Head  of  the  Frank  James 

Industrial  School,  Elat 101 

A  Neighbor  Teacher 108 


SAWING  LUMBER  BY  HAND 


CARRYING  POLES 

For  the  New  Church  Building  at  Melet — Too  Economical 

to  buy  a  Wagon 


FOREW^ORD 

Miss  Mackenzie,  author  of  this  book,  is  also  a  grrat 
adventurer  in  Africa.  She  knows  the  girls  and  boys; 
speaks  their  language;  and  has  journeyed  feir  into  the 
dark  forest,  even  into  the  homes  of  the  dwarfs. '  She  is 
now  on  her  way  back  to  Africa,  where  she  has  been 
called  to  help  the  people  in  this  terrible  time  of  war. 
Her  family  and  friends  dreaded  the  dangers  of  the  voy- 
age, but  she  said,  "When  people  are  called  to  the  front 
now,  they  go,"  and  took  the  first  ship.  May  God  bless 
her  in  this  last  adventure. 

L.  W.  P. 


^^^ 

1 

CHAPTER    I. 
THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU   MEJO 

HE  little  brown  mother  of  Mejo  sat  by  the 
door  of  her  hut  waiting  for  him  to  come 
home.  On  the  fire  that  was  laid  on  the 
clay  floor  of  the  hut  a  big  clay  pot  gur- 
gled. Mejo's  dinner  was  in  this  kettle,  well  tucked  in 
under  some  wide  banana  leaves.  Presently,  when  she 
saw  the  body  of  her  son  enter  the  clearing,  Mejo's 
mother  lifted  the  kettle  from  the  fire ;  with  quick  move- 
ments of  her  hardy  hands  she  took  off  the  layers  of 
green  leaves  that  covered  the  kettle,  and  Mejo's  dinner 
steamed  in  the  little  hut.  There  were  two  courses  for 
dinner — there  was  a  mess  of  greens  and  there  were 
ears  of  corn.  The  greens  and  the  corn  were  there  to- 
gether in  the  kettle. 

Mejo's  mother  found  a  wooden  bowl  on  the  floor  and 
a  wooden  ladle  thrust  by  its  handle  into  the  bamboo 
slattings  of  the  wall;  she  blew  on  the  bowl  and  the 
spoon  to  dust  them,  then  she  filled  the  little  bowl  with 
hot  greens.  But  for  the  ears  of  corn  she  made  a  little 
platter  of  a  green  leaf. 

Mejo  was  no  more  than  thirteen  years  old  but  he  had 
to  duck  to  enter  the  hut,  for  the  walls  were  low.  In- 
side he  could  stand  upright  for  the  ridge  of  the  roof 
was  all  of  ten  feet  from  the  ground.  Mejo  sat  upon  his 
heels  before  his  little  dinner  and  his  mother  sat  oppo- 
site him  on  a  little  stool  hewn  from  a  block  of  wood. 
They  ate  with  little  wooden  spoons  from  the  wooden 
bowl.  But  before  they  ate  at  all  they  bowed  their 
heads  and  said. 


8  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"Akeva,  Zambe !"  That  is  to  say— "Thanks  to  God !" 

"They  say  we  live  in  Africa,"  said  Mejo,  when  he 
had  been  a  little  time  silent  and  busy  with  greens  and 
corn. 

"Who  says  so?"  asked  his  mother. 

"The  teacher  says  so,"  said  Mejo. 

"What  kind  of  a  teacher  says  so — is  it  the  white  man 
or  one  of  the  black  people  ? 

"Even  if  it  were  a  black  teacher — and  it  was,  it  was 
Ela  from  Asok — ^will  you  doubt  it?  He  heard  it  from 
the  white  man.  And  when  he  doubted  it  and  he 
knocked  on  the  white  man's  door  at  night,  to  ask  him 
of  this  thing;  the  white  man  said,  'Surely,  yes.'  The 
white  man  showed  Ela  in  a  book  a  word  that  says  that 
the  black  people  live  in  Africa." 

"Was  it  a  book  in  the  Bulu  speech  or  a  book  in  the 
German  speech?" 

"It  certainly  was  a  book  in  the  German  speech." 

"Was  it  a  word  from  God?"  asked  Me  jo's  mother — 
"did  Ela  read  in  God's  Word  that  we  live  in  Africa?" 

"No,  I  cannot  say  that  that  book  was  one  of  the 
words  of  God.    It  was  just  a  white  man's  book." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Mejo's  mother,  "I  don't  believe 
it.  I  who  have  lived  in  this  forest  always,  did  I  ever 
hear  that  we  live  in  Africa  ?  What  the  old  and  wise  of 
the  tribe  never  knew,  how  can  the  white  man  know  it 
— who  is  a  stranger  of  yesterday.  If  you  ask  me  where 
we  live  I  will  still  tell  you  that  we  live  in  the  country 
of  the  Bulu  tribes !  It  is  just  pride  that  is  in  all  this 
teaching  that  Ela  teaches  you.  He  lies  to  you  about 
the  words  he  reads  in  the  white  man's  book!  He 
knows  that  you  are  still  ignorant  and  he  does  not  fear 
to  lie!" 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  9 

"You  are  certainly  a  person  of  doubts.  I  believe  him. 
I  believe  him  because  all  the  things  I  doubted  one  day 
I  saw  them  to  be  true  the  next  day.  When  he  taught 
me  the  little  marks  that  are  letters  he  told  me  always 
that  those  letters  if  you  knew  how  to  join  them,  would 
be  created  words.  I  always  said  in  my  heart, — words 
are  made  in  the  mouth,  they  are  never  made  in  the  eye. 
Then  one  day  I  saw  a  joining  of  letters  make  a  word 
— Eke — strange  thing!  Even  as  he  said.  Now  I  am 
able  to  believe  him." 

"You  believe  too  much,"  said  Mejo*s  mother.  "You 
just  better  believe  all  the  words  that  are  the  words  of 
God;  that  will  be  enough  for  you  to  believe.  You 
were  certainly  very  late  on  the  path  tonight.  I  thought 
the  sun  would  be  lost  before  you  came.  I  asked  my 
heart, — that  son  of  mine,  where  is  he?  Does  he  not 
have  wisdom  enough  to  fear  the  things  of  the  dark? 
Where  did  you  linger?" 

"I  visited  my  traps,"  said  Mejo,  "those  little  traps  I 
set  on  the  day  that  is  Saturday  when  we  do  not  have 
school.  I  set  some  bird  traps  over  by  the  great  rock  in 
the  direction  where  the  sun  rises." 

"Did  you  kill  anything?" 

"How  can  you  ask  me  that  when  you  and  I  eat  just 
nothing  at  all  but  greens  and  corn !  I  feel  such  a  meat- 
hunger  that  I  could  eat  a  rat.  Though  I  am  too  big  to 
eat  rats  now !" 

"Don't  hang  your  heart  up,"  said  Mejo*s  mother — 
"if  you  kill  nothing  tomorrow,  myself,  I  will  cook  you 
some  good  food.  All  day  when  I  work  in  the  garden 
I  will  watch  for  a  snail  or  caterpillars  and  if  when  the 
sun  is  in  the  middle  I  have  found  nothing,  I  will  come 
back  from  the  garden  in  time  to  kill  you  a  few  little 
fishes." 


10  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

It  was  growing  dark  now  in  the  little  hut,  except 
where  the  light  of  the  fire  lay  low  between  the  fire 
stones. 

"It  is  the  sixth  hour  now,"  said  Mejo. 

"What  is  that  new  word  you  say?"  asked  his  mother. 

"I  said,  it  is  the  sixth  hour.  Because  they  told  us 
in  school  today  that  when  the  sun  is  lost  then  it  is  the 
sixth  hour  of  the  night.  When  it  rises  that  hour  is  the 
sixth  hour  of  the  morning." 

"And  when  it  is  the  middle?" 

"Then  it  is  the  twelfth  hour.  And  when  the  women 
begin  to  come  from  their  gardens  it  is  then  the  second 
hour  after  noon." 

"How  do  they  know  all  that?  Who  said  that  this  is 
one  hour  and  another  hour?    What  is  an  hour?" 

"The  clock  tells  them.  You  saw  the  clock  when  you 
went  to  see  the  white  man's  baby.  All  these  questions 
you  ask  me  are  so  many  questions.  Did  any  hen  lay  an 
egg  today?" 

"A  hen  certainly  did — and  there  are  now  six  eggs  in 
the  corner  by  my  bed." 

"Ah,  mother — give  me  those  six  eggs  !** 

"I  am  to  give  you  those  six  eggs?  And  a  little 
chicken  in  every  egg!  What  new  thing  do  you  have  in 
your  heart  that  you  should  beg  all  my  six  eggs  and  all 
those  six  little  chickens  from  me  ?  You  are  not  so  hun- 
gry that  you  must  eat  an  egg,  are  you?" 

"Never  could  I  bear  to  eat  an  egg — but  I  want  to  buy 
a  writing  stone  (a  slate).  My  old  one  is  broken.  You 
know  that  I  must  work  for  many  mornings  on  the  mis- 
sion farm  to  buy  another  writing  stone.  And  those  six 
eggs  are  half  the  price  of  the  stone.  I  hate  to  rise  from 
my  bed  when  the  women  rise  to  go  to  their  farms ;  then 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  11 

the  dew  is  everywhere  and  I  hate  to  work  among  the 
weeds  with  my  body  all  wet  with  dew.  So  I  said  in  my 
heart,  I  believe  my  mother  will  give  me  some  eggs, 
and  so  with  some  eggs  one  day  and  some  another  I 
can  buy  my  writing  stone." 

"How  soft  are  the  bodies  of  boys  that  they  cannot 
bear  the  chill  of  the  morning.  Have  not  the  mothers 
of  men  risen  always — all  these  generations  of  men — 
and  suffered  the  dew  on  their  bodies  and  the  chill  that 
is  in  the  dawn,  that  men  might  eat  good  food  from  the 
garden !  But  just  ask  a  boy  to  rise  early  and  to  walk 
in  the  wet  grasses — then  he  has  a  sullen  face.  No— I 
must  keep  my  eggs  for  my  own  debts.  You  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  I  will  be  wanting  a  gift  for  God  on  the 
day  that  is  Sunday  when  the  people  of  God  bring  every 
one  a  gift  to  God.  And  three  of  us  who  are  people  of 
God  in  this  town  have  tied  ourselves  to  buy  medicine 
for  old  Vunga  who  lies  on  her  bed  in  her  hut." 

Now  it  was  dark  in  Mejo's  mother's  house.  There 
was  no  moon  that  night,  the  oil  palm  trees  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  clearing  were  lost  in  the  dark.  Across  the 
street  of  the  town  other  little  huts  of  other  wives  of 
Mejo's  father  were  lost  too,  except  where  firelight 
shone  through  the  slits  in  the  bark  walls,  or  through 
the  doors  that  were  still  open. 

"I  will  go  and  salute  my  father,"  said  Mejo. 

"You  school  boys  never  know  the  news  of  the  town," 
said  Mejo's  mother.  "I  might  run  away  or  a  tree  In 
falling  might  fall  on  me,  and  you  would  come  in  at  the 
day's  end  to  ask, — 'Why  does  not  my  mother  show  me 
my  evening  meal?'  Now  everyone  but  you  knows 
that  your  father  is  not  in  town." 

"Where  then  is  he?" 


12  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"He  has  gone  to  Mekok.  A  carrier  with  a  load  of 
rubber  for  the  trader  at  the  beach  passed  on  the  path 
this  morning.  He  said  that  six  days  ago  when  he 
passed  the  town  of  Mekok  he  asked  a  drink  of  water 
from  a  woman  in  that  town.  In  that  woman's  house 
was  a  little  girl  who  begged  him  to  take  a  packet  of 
peanuts  to  her  mother  as  he  would  be  passing  her 
mother's  town." 

"  'I  am  Asala/  she  told  that  carrier,  'the  daughter  of 
Akulu  Mejo.  I  am  the  sister  of  Mejo  Akulu.  I  am 
married  in  this  town  of  Mekok  since  the  last  rainy  sea- 
son. My  mother  is  a  little  thin  woman,  one  of  the 
wives  of  Akulu  Mejo.  She  is  a  person  of  God,  She  is 
easy  to  find— everyone  knows  her.  Perhaps  you  too 
have  a  little  daughter  sold  into  a  far  marriage.  So  I  beg 
you  to  take  these  peanuts  to  my  mother.  Tell  her  that 
Bilo'o,  my  husband's  wife  in  whose  house  I  live,  has 
permitted  me  to  take  these  peanuts  from  her  garden. 
Because  I  have  no  other  present  to  send  my  mother. 
Tell  my  mother  that  I  think  of  her  always  from  the 
dawn  of  one  day  to  the  dawn  of  another  day.  Tell  her 
that  a  man  who  passed  on  the  path  two  moons  back 
gave  me  this  news, — ^that  at  the  time  of  the  planting  of 
peanuts  my  mother  was  sick.  When  I  heard  that  news 
my  heart  dried  up  and  I  could  not  eat.  Then  I  begged 
God  for  my  mother.  Tell  my  mother  now  I  am  thin 
with  grief  and  longing !' 

"All  this  news  of  your  little  sister  the  man  with  the 
load  of  rubber  told  me,  and  I  cooked  him  some  plan- 
tains and  he  ate.  But  while  those  plantains  were  on 
the  fire  I  went  to  the  palaver  house  where  your  father 
sat  talking  to  a  guest — and  because  my  heart  was 
heavy  in  me  I  did  not  fear  to  speak  before  the  guest. 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  li 

I  said  to  your  father,  'How  many  times  have  we  plant- 
ed peanuts  since  you  bought  me  from  my  father  in  his 
town  that  is  on  the  path  that  comes  from  the  sun's 
rising?' 

"Your  father  just  looked  at  me, — ^it  would  be  a  long 
hunting  that  would  remember  all  those  planting  of  pea- 
nuts that  we  have  planted  since  that  day  he  bought  me 
for  a  big  ivory,  and  I  was  then  a  girl  no  bigger  than 
your  wrist. 

"Then  I  asked  him  another  question.  'How  many 
times  before  I  became  a  person  of  God  did  I  run  away 
from  this  marriage  that  you  and  I  are  married?' 

"Your  father  hunted  to  remember  those  runnings 
away  that  I  ran.  On  his  fingers  he  counted  six  run- 
nings. And  he  said,  *Yes — Six  runnings  you  ran  away. 
As  long  as  your  mother  lived  you  would  run  away  to 
her.  And  after  she  died  you  ran  away  for  other  rea- 
sons.   You  were  certainly  a  bad  runner  away  !* 

"  'I  hear !  and  since  I  am  a  person  of  the  tribe  of  God 
— how  many  runnings  away  have  I  run?' 

"  'Why,  none  at  all,'  said  your  father.  *Do  women 
who  are  persons  of  that  tribe  run  away?' 

"  'I  tell  you  a  true  word,'  I  said  to  your  father,  'My 
heart  has  run  away  today  to  my  little  daughter  who  is 
married  in  Mekok.  She  sends  a  message  for  me.  I 
must  see  that  child.    I  beg  you  to  let  me  visit  her.* 

"Then  your  father  said  No — he  would  visit  her.  He 
said  that  one  of  the  goats  that  Asala's  husband  had 
given  on  the  dowry  had  died.  So  he  must  go  to  beg 
of  Asala's  husband  another  goat.  He  would  say  to 
Asala's  husband, — 'Now  the  girl  I  gave  you  did  not  die, 
did  she?  Or  I  would  have  given  you  another  of  my 
daughters  in  her  place.  But  the  goat  you  gave  me  has 
died.    So  you  must  give  me  another  goat.* 


14  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"Then  your  father  called  some  of  his  young  men  for 
a  journey.  Together  they  went  away  at  noon.  As  for 
me,  I  have  just  sat  in  my  house  all  day  and  desired 
with  a  great  desire  to  see  my  little  daughter.  Now  I 
am  going  to  lie  down  upon  my  bed.  Before  we  part 
teach  me  the  new  word  of  the  Word  of  God  that  you 
learned  in  school  today." 

"  'The  Son  of  man  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that 
which  was  lost.*    Now  repeat,"  said  Mejo. 

"  'The  Son  of  man,'  he  that  was  Jesus,"  said  Mejo's 
mother,  "came  to  seek  the  people  lost  in  the  forest  and 
to  save  them." 

"You  have  caught  the  argument,  but  you  have  put 
too  many  words  in  it,  try  again,"  and  Mejo  set  the 
model  again.  But  Mejo's  mother  always  said,  "lost 
in  the  forest." 

"Even  so,"  said  she,  "you  see  that  the  Word  of  God 
says  nothing  about  Africa;  it  does  not  say  that  we 
were  lost  in  Africa — that  country  that  you  tell  about. 
And  I  know  that  we  were  lost  in  the  forest,  so  it  is 
hard  not  to  put  those  words  into  the  word !" 

"If  you  were  in  school,"  said  Mejo,  "they  wouldn't 
let  you  do  it,  so  I  won't."  And  he  persisted  until  his 
mother  said  his  verse  correctly. 

"I  am  going  to  bed  now,"  said  he. 

He  took  a  brand  from  the  fire  and  went  out  into  the 
street.  He  waved  the  brand  about  to  keep  the  burn- 
ing end  of  it  bright.  This  he  did  to  drive  away  any 
snake  that  might  be  abroad  in  the  dark.  By  this  dim 
and  ruddy  light,  Mejo  came  to  a  little  house  where  he 
lived  with  Assam,  his  half  brother,  one  of  the  older 
sons  of  Akulu  Mejo.    The  mother  of  Assam  was  dead. 

The  boys  had  built  this  little  house  for  themselves. 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  15 

Together  they  had  cut  and  trimmed  the  young  sapling 
trees  that  were  the  frame  work.  They  themselves  had 
peeled  from  great  trees  the  big  plates  of  bark  that  were 
the  walls.  Their  father  had  given  them  the  mats  of 
palm-leaves  that  were  the  thatch  of  the  roof,  and  some 
"real  men"  of  the  village  had  helped  them  bring  in  and 
raise  the  long  straight  sapling  that  was  the  ridge  pole. 
That  day  they  had  all  sung  the  song  of  the  roof  tree. 
Many  little  brothers  had  helped  them  thatch  their  roof, 
singing  the  song  of  the  thatch.  Now  they  lived  to- 
gether under  this  roof  with  the  dignity  of  school  boys. 

Assam  was  perhaps  sixteen  years  old,  perhaps  seven- 
teen. He  had  three  loin  cloths  all  his  own,  and  two 
singlets.^  He  had  a  felt  hat,  but  his  father  often  bor- 
rowed this  and  wore  it  on  long  journeys.  He  owned  a 
Book  of  the  Word  of  God  in  the  Bulu  language.  He 
owned  a  lantern — the  only  lantern  in  that  town.  He 
could  write  in  a  beautiful,  clear  hand.  He  was  very 
much  admired  by  his  father,  and  by  the  people  of  the 
village.  For  nick-name  and  drum  name  the  villagers 
gave  him  a  name  that  they  beat  upon  the  call  drum 
when  they  summoned  him  from  a  distance  too  great  for 
the  call  of  the  human  voice.  This  phrase  is  that  name 
they  gave  him — 

"He  stands  like  a  dagger." 

This  was  a  phrase  of  admiration  because  Assam 
was  a  fine  youth,  straight  and  slim. 

"Strange  thing  about  Assam,"  the  villagers  said, 
"he  is  not  proud."  And  for  this  they  approved  him  and 
admired  him  the  more. 

On  this  night  of  which  I  tell  you,  when  Mejo  came 
into  their  little  house,  Assam  was  studying  his  lessons 

^  Really  an  undervest,  much  worn  as  an  upper  garment. 


16  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

by  the  light  of  the  lantern  that  stood  on  a  little  table  of 
bamboo — the  boys  had  built  a  table  in  their  house. 

"Assam,"  said  Mejo. 

"Say  it !"  said  Assam,  not  looking  up  from  his  book. 

"It  is  a  question/'  said  Mejo. 

"Ask  it,"  said  Assam — 

"Today  did  they  speak  in  your  class  about  the  things 
of  teaching?" 

"They  did,"  said  Assam.  "They  said  vacation  was 
near,  and  it  would  be  well  to  see  the  company  of  boys 
who  were  willing  to  teach  in  the  villages  during  vaca- 
tion. They  said  that  many  villages  far  away  were  call- 
ing for  teachers.  Mr.  Krug  said  all  the  boys  who  were 
people  of  God  and  who  were  willing  to  go  on  those 
journeys  and  teach  in  those  schools  must  rise  from 
their  seats," 

"Did  you  rise  from  your  seat?" 

"I  did,"  said  Assam. 

"What  boy  goes  with  you?" 

"How  do  I  know  what  boy  goes  with  me?  Mr.  Krug 
said  he  would  ask  the  younger  boys, — 'Who  is  willing 
to  walk  in  the  company  of  a  teacher,  to  be  his  com- 
panion in  a  strange  town,  to  cook  his  food,  and  to  help 
teach  the  classes?'  He  said  he  would  ask  the  younger 
boys  that  question,  and  I  thought  perhaps  you  would 
promise  to  go  with  me.    Did  he  ask?" 

"He  certainly  asked,"  said  Mejo. 

"Did  you  promise?" 

"I  did  not,"  said  Mejo.  Then  after  a  while  he  said, 
"I  was  afraid.  I  thought — just  two  boys  in  a  strange 
town — ^how  do  we  know  what  thing  the  people  of  that 
town  will  do  to  us?  They  promise  to  feed  us,  but  will 
they  feed  us?    All  this  rainy  season  I  have  just  sat  in 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  17 

school.  Now  the  dry  season  is  here  I  long  to  fish  and 
hunt.  I  long  to  camp  in  the  forest  with  our  own  people 
when  they  visit  the  dwarfs.  I  don't  want  to  teach 
school  in  vacation.    I  want  to  stay  at  home." 

"Don't  you  think  I  want  to  stay  at  home  too?"  said 
Assam. 

"Well,  then,  why  don't  you?" 

"Oh !  go  to  sleep !"  said  Assam.  "Some  things  you 
understand,  but  God  has  not  yet  opened  the  eyes  of 
your  heart!"    And  Assam  put  out  the  lantern. 

Soon  two  school  boys  were  asleep  on  the  bamboo 
bed.  Assam  owned  a  red  blanket,  together  they  slept 
under  that  blanket.  But  in  none  of  the  other  houses  in 
that  town  was  there  a  blanket.  Fires  burned  beside  all 
the  other  bamboo  beds,  and  now  and  again  through 
the  night  there  woke  beside  the  fires  that  burned  low  a 
sleepy  black  man  or  woman  who  mended  the  fire  and 
slept  again. 

How  quiet  the  night  was  in  that  little  village  where 
there  were  no  lamps ;  where  no  more  than  twenty  huts 
were  ranged  in  two  rows  with  a  clearing  between  them 
like  a  street.  At  either  end  of  this  little  street  there  was 
a  palaver  house  where  the  "real  men"  of  the  village 
lived.  And  about  this  village,  all  built  of  the  bark  of 
trees  and  thatched  with  the  leaves  of  trees,  stood  the 
trees  of  the  forest,  dripping  with  night  dews.  Some- 
times in  the  forest  a  bird  would  call.  Sometimes  a  big- 
ger animal  would  make  a  crashing  in  the  bush.  There 
were  wild  cows  in  the  forests  of  that  neighborhood, 
and  leopards  and  elephants  and  gorillas.  Often  at 
night  a  leopard  would  steal  a  sheep  of  that  village,  and 
often  in  the  dead  of  night  bands  of  monkeys  would 
chatter  and  play  in  the  trees  behind  the  little  brown 


18  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

huts,  or  in  the  moonlight  that  fell  upon  the  deserted 
street. 

One  day  perhaps  a  week  later,  Andungo,  the  mother 
of  Me  jo,  was  coming  home  from  her  garden  with  her 
basket  on  her  back  and  a  great  bunch  of  plantains  in  the 
basket.  The  little  forest  path  was  brown  under  her 
brown  feet,  the  great  trunks  of  the  trees  were  gray 
about  her  brown  body,  and  above  her  were  the  millions 
and  millions  of  green  leaves  making  up  and  up  to  the 
roof  of  the  forest.  On  that  roof  bright  birds  sunned 
themselves,  and  there  were  the  flowers  of  such  trees  as 
bloomed.  On  the  roof  of  the  forest  the  sun  shone,  but 
down  where  Andungo  walked  there  was  a  kind  of  gray 
green  dusk — you  see,  it  was  the  cellar  of  the  forest. 

Andungo,  Mejo's  mother,  was  studying  her  lessons  as 
she  walked  alone.    She  was  saying  to  herself: 

"This  must  be  the  second  hour,  because  Mejo  said  it 
is  the  second  hour  when  women  begin  to  return  from 
their  gardens.  This  must  be  the  day  that  is  Tuesday, 
because  Tuesday  is  the  day  that  is  two  days  after  Sun- 
day— and  twice  have  I  slept  on  my  bed  since  Sunday. 
He !  the  great  day  that  was  Sunday !  I  heard  the  school 
boys  say  that  there  were  seven  thousand  people  under 
the  roof  of  the  church  on  Sunday.  That  thing  that  is 
a  thousand  is  too  much  for  me  to  know, — ^women  can- 
not know  these  things — but  with  my  eyes  I  saw  that 
great  company ;  I  heard  that  great  shouting  they  made 
before  we  began  to  worship  God,  and  I  heard  too  that 
great  silence  when  we  began  to  worship  God.  That 
was  a  silence  like  the  silence  that  is  the  ceasing  of  a 
great  rain  upon  the  roof — when  you  are  astonished  at 
that  silence.  And  I  heard  those  many  voices  singing 
the  praise  of  God.  I  wish  I  knew  all  the  words  of  that 
song  that  says : 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  19 

"God  is  loving, 
He  has  loved  me, 
God  is  loving. 
He  loves  me. 
I  tell  you  again, 
God  is  loving, 
God  is  loving. 
He  loves  me.^ 

"More  of  that  song  I  wish  I  knew. 

"I  am  glad  I  found  those  nuts  of  the  wild  mango 
tree  that  Mejo  loves  to  eat.  I  will  roast  them  in  the 
fire  and  Mejo  shall  eat  them  all." 

But  Mejo  never  so  much  as  saw  those  mango  nuts 
with  his  eye,  because  when  Andungo  the  mother  of 
Mejo  ducked  down  to  enter  her  hut,  two  little  brown 
arms  were  thrown  about  her  body — a  little  young  body 
clung  to  hers.  That  was  the  body  of  her  girl  Asala. 
Her  girl  Asala  was  crying  out, — 

"Ah,  mother,  I  have  come!  Ah,  mother,  they  have 
permitted  me  to  visit  you!  Ah,  mother,  the  many 
nights  I  lay  upon  my  bed  and  longed  for  my  mother! 
Sometimes  when  I  slept  you  entered  my  head  at  night. 
That  dream  was  so  quick  to  pass.  Now  I  see  you  with 
my  eyes ;  I  touch  you  with  my  hands !  Tell  me  all  the 
news !" 

That  is  why  Mejo  never  saw  the  mango  nuts — his 
little  sister  ate  them  while  she  answered  her  mother's 
many  questions. 

"That  is  a  new  way  they  dress  your  hair  now,'*  said 
Andungo. 

"Yes — it  is  the  dressing  that  they  dress  the  hair  of 
girls  in  the  town  of  my  marriage,"  said  Asala. 

*  She  was  sin^ng  Bulu  words  to  the  old  German  air,  "Gott  ist  die  Liebe." 


20  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

She  was  perhaps  twelve  years  old ;  she  wore  a  little 
apron  of  green  leaves  and  this  was  attached  to  a  belt  of 
leopard's  skin.  She  wore  besides  a  bushy  little  tail  of 
dried  grasses.  About  her  neck  was  a  necklace  of  dog's 
teeth  strung  on  one  of  the  strong  black  hairs  of  an  ele- 
phant's tail.  Just  below  the  knee  of  her  right  leg  she 
had  tied  a  narrow  ribbon  of  a  bright  green  grass  and 
another  such  a  green  ribbon  was  tied  about  her  fore- 
head. These  bands  of  green  were  very  pretty  on  her 
brown  body.  Her  feet  and  hands  were  dainty.  This 
little  brown  girl  was  like  the  small  gazelles  that  run  in 
the  forests.  When  her  mother  looked  at  her  she 
thought — "How  beautiful  she  is!" 

"Do  they  say  that  you  are  beautiful  in  the  town  of 
your  marriage?" 

"They  say  I  would  be  beautiful  if  I  were  tattooed," 
said  Asala.  "  'Why  did  not  your  father  have  you  tat- 
tooed?' they  ask.  'You  look  so  strange  without  any 
marks  upon  your  body.'  Then  I  feel  shame  in  my 
heart.  All  the  others  are  tattooed.  Sometimes  I  make 
a  paint  of  charcoal  and  the  gum  of  a  tree,  and  with  that 
I  make  marks  upon  my  body — ^but  not  very  well.  I  am 
too  stupid  to  make  good  marks." 

"You  should  tell  them  the  truth,"  said  her  mother. 
"Say  that  you  are  the  child  of  a  Christian  woman  who 
knows  that  God  made  your  body  as  it  pleased  Him  to 
make  it,  and  that  it  is  forbidden  to  spoil  that  body  He 
made  with  knives  and  the  things  of  tattoo.  You  should 
tell  them  that." 

"Oh!  I  do  tell  them  that  you  are  a  Christian,"  said 
Asala,  "I  tell  them  that  more  than  anything.  All  the 
wives  of  my  husband  speak  to  me  of  that  thing — ^that 
my  mother  is  a  Christian.    Women  come  from  across 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  21 

the  river  to  ask  me  questions  of  my  mother  that  is  a 
Christian.  The  women  of  our  neighborhood  are  al- 
ways asking  me, — 'how  do  the  people  of  the  tribe  of 
God  do  this  thing  and  that  thing?  Tell  us  about  the 
rules  of  the  tribe  of  God.  Tell  us  about  that  Jesus, 
Son  of  God.'  Those  questions  they  are  always  asking 
me. 

"I  hope  you  are  wise  to  answer." 

"I  answer  as  I  am  able,"  said  Asala.  "Some  ques- 
tions it  is  hard  to  answer.  Now  that  wife  of  my  hus- 
band in  whose  house  I  live  begins  to  pray." 

"Thanks  to  God,"  cried  Andungo,  "now  she  will  be 
good  to  you !" 

"I  tell  you  a  true  word,"  said  Asala,  "she  was  always 
good  to  me.  Yes,  from  the  very  first  day  that  I  went  a 
stranger  into  that  town  walking  before  my  husband 
with  my  hands  clasped  upon  my  head  and  tears  run- 
ning from  my  eyes — from  that  day  she  was  good  to  me. 
She  tells  me  always  that  I  am  like  a  child  of  her  own. 
She  never  had  a  child  but  me !" 

"When  /  came  to  my  marriage  it  was  not  so,"  said 
Andungo.  "Your  father  put  me  in  the  house  of  Eda; 
she  is  dead  now.  She  had  a  bad  heart,  that  woman, 
and  I  too,  I  had  a  bad  heart.  Under  that  roof  that  cov- 
ered two  bad  hearts  what  quarrels  we  made !  She  was 
big  and  I  was  little — she  always  won !  But  the  thing 
you  tell  me  of  that  woman  in  whose  house  you  live  is  a 
good  word.  I  will  send  her  a  present  when  you  go 
back  and  as  many  of  the  words  of  God  as  I  can  teach 
you.  How  is  it  that  your  husband  permitted  you  to 
leave  his  town?" 

"It  was  because  of  you,  mother.  Because  of  the 
news  my  father  gave  my  husband  of  you. 


22  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"  'Asala's  mother  is  a  Christian,  a  member  of  that 
new  tribe  that  is  growing  in  the  forest' — my  father  told 
my  husband,  and  that  a  Christian  must  keep  her  word, 
and  that  you  would  drive  me  back  to  my  husband's 
town  because  you  were  a  Christian. 

"  'You  can  trust  that  word,'  said  my  father. 

"  'Strange  thing !'  said  my  husband. 

"  'Those  women  of  mine  who  are  Christians  do  not 
run  away,'  said  my  father. 

"  'Strange  thing  !*  said  my  husband. 

"Then  he  said  to  me, — 'If  I  permit  you  to  visit  your 
mother  for  one  moon  do  you  swear  by  the  dead  that 
you  will  return?' 

"Then  I  said  to  my  husband, — 'Not  by  the  dead  do  I 
swear ;  but  by  the  living  God.' 

"  'Is  that  a  good  oath  ?'  asked  my  husband,  and  my 
father  said  that  it  was  a  strong  promise. 

"Then  my  husband  said,  'If  I  let  you  go  I  do  not  let 
you  go  free.  I  tie  you  with  this  tying^ — ^that  when 
this  moon  that  is  making  is  lost  and  the  morning  after 
the  making  of  the  next  moon,  you  must  leave  your  fa- 
ther's town;  your  father  will  show  you  the  path  back 
to  my  town.  And  when  you  return  you  must  have  a 
word  from  the  white  man.  It  would  be  well  to  have 
that  word  written  in  a  book,  for  I  see  that  all  the  white 
people  make  their  strong  words  in  a  book.  And  the 
word  I  want  is  a  promise.  That  white  man  must  send 
us  a  teacher.  He  must  promise  to  send  us  a  teacher. 
All  the  news  I  hear  of  these  things  that  are  the  things 
of  God  make  my  heart  desire  them.  I  sit  in  my  pala- 
ver house  in  ignorance.  Tell  the  white  man  that  Efa, 
the  headman  of  Mekok,  would  learn  of  the  things  of 

'  To  be  tied  is  to  be  bound  to  do  a  certain  thing. 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  23 

God.     Do  you  promise  to  tell  to  the  white  man  this 
word?' 

"  'I  promise,'  I  said  to  my  husband.  So  he  let  me 
come.  Ah,  mother,  such  joy  in  my  heart !  It  fills  my 
heart  full. — Where  are  all  the  girls?" 

"They  are  fishing,  and  there  on  the  wall  is  your  own 
little  net." 

Asala's  little  net  was  of  a  knotted  cord  strung  to  a 
hoop  of  twigs.  She  hung  the  circle  of  it  on  her  shoul- 
der and  went  away  in  the  great  sunlight.  She  knew 
the  old  path  to  the  river.  When  she  came  to  the  river 
bank  she  saw  all  the  girls  of  the  village  playing  in  the 
brown  water.  There  were  the  little  girl-wives  of  her 
father,  and  the  girls  born  in  the  town  and  not  married 
yet.  They  ran  up  the  bank  to  greet  her,  all  wet  with 
bright  water. 

"Asala  has  come  home !"  they  cried.  "How  she  has 
grown  and  her  hair  is  dressed  a  new  way !  Ah,  Asala, 
did  you  run  away  from  your  marriage  that  we  see  you 
with  our  eyes  again?  Ah,  Asala,  here  is  a  new  girl  that 
you  do  not  know — she  is  from  the  neighborhood  of 
your  husband's  town — she  asks  news  of  her  mother,  of 
her  brother.  Ah,  Asala,  tonight  when  we  dance  you 
will  teach  us  new  dances  that  you  learned  in  that  far 
country !" 

It  was  four  weeks  later  that  Andungo,  the  mother  of 
Mejo,  said  to  her  husband : 

"Some  days  run  too  fast.  Some  days  are  as  slow  as 
a  chameleon  and  some  run  like  gazelles.  Now  there  are 
only  two  days  before  Asala  must  go  back  to  her  hus- 
band's town." 

The  parents  of  Mejo  were  sitting  in  the  big  palaver 
house  at  the  end  of  the  street.    Akulu,  the  father  of 


24  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

Mejo,  was  busy  making  a  box  of  the  bark  of  a  tree. 
He  was  making  this  box  very  carefully,  sewing  it  to- 
gether with  a  rattan  thread.  When  it  was  done  he 
meant  to  put  some  precious  bones  in  the  box — ^bones 
that  were  fetish.  He  hoped  that  when  he  made  a 
charm  with  these  bones  certain  desirable  things  would 
come  to  pass.  He  had  a  good  many  worries  about  his 
town,  and  about  some  evil  spirits  that  were  troubling 
the  people  of  his  town,  and  so  he  was  trying  to  make  a 
strong  new  "medicine"  against  those  evil  spirits.  This 
is  why  he  was  so  busy  sewing  away  at  his  bark  box. 
Andungo  had  brought  him  a  little  cake  of  mashed  plan- 
tain and  a  little  peanut  paste  in  a  green  leaf.  They 
were  alone  in  the  palaver  house,  and  she  told  him  how 
sorry  she  was  because  Asala's  visit  was  almost  all  run 
away. 

"That  thing  is  easy,"  said  Akulu.  "Keep  her." 

"Keep  her!"  cried  out  Andungo.  "How  can  I  keep 
her?  She  gave  the  promise  of  a  Christian  that  she 
would  return!" 

"You  Christians  are  hard-hearted,"  said  Akulu, — "to 
drive  a  child  away  like  that." 

"Am  I  driving  her?  Not  I!  It  is  herself.  Last 
night,  when  we  saw  the  new  moon  and  all  the  children 
in  the  village  cried  out, 

"  'The  new  moon  is  made ! 

"  'The  new  moon  is  made !' 

"Then  Asala  came  away  from  the  other  girls  where 
they  were  dancing.  She  sat  by  me  in  the  hut.  In  the 
dark  I  could  hear  her  cry.  And  she  said,  'Ah,  mother, 
when  we  see  the  new  moon  two  nights  then  in  the 
morning  I  must  rise  and  go  to  my  husband's  town. 
Because  that  was  the  time  I  promised.  And  I  am  a 
Christian.' " 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  25 

"Such  a  little  Christian,"  said  Akulu.  "Surely  they 
will  never  believe  the  word  of  such  a  little  Christian! 
They  will  say, — ^her  heart  is  the  heart  of  a  child,  and 
she  lingers  by  her  mother's  side.  There  can  be  no 
harm  in  that !" 

"Little  or  big,"  said  Andungo,  "she  is  all  the  Chris- 
tian the  people  of  that  town  know.  And  she  must 
show  them  the  path.  They  all  take  example  by  her. 
She  must  go." 

"But  if  I  say  that  I  am  not  ready  to  go  with  her? 
Here  I  am  these  days,  trying  to  make  a  new  medicine 
charm  for  my  son  Ze  who  grows  so  thin.  What  if  I 
say  that  I  cannot  leave  my  town  now?  How  vdll  she 
keep  her  promise?" 

"We  thought  of  that,"  said  Andungo.  "Then  Assam 
will  go  to  show  her  the  path." 

"But  he  is  in  school !" 

"Even  so,  he  will  beg  the  teacher  to  let  him  go,  that 
the  Christians  may  keep  their  promises." 

"Such  persistence !"  said  Akulu. 

The  next  morning  when  Mejo  sat  in  school,  he  saw 
a  woman  and  a  girl  come  in.  "There  is  my  mother  and 
my  sister,"  he  thought.  He  felt  surprised  and  uncom- 
fortable. "Now  they  will  do  something  stupid,"  he 
thought,  "and  I  will  feel  shame !" 

The  school  house  was  a  great  roof  thatched  with 
leaves,  over  rows  and  rows  of  seats  and  desks  rough 
hewn  from  the  logs  of  the  forest.  The  walls  of  the 
school  were  of  bark — and  so  low  that  a  boy  might  sit 
in  his  seat  and  look  off  into  the  forest.  Under  that 
great  roof  there  was  a  murmur  of  many  voices,  for 
there  were  four  hundred  boys  in  this  school.  This  was 
the  lower  school,  the  upper  school  was  near  by.    At 


26  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

the  end  of  the  school  a  white  man  sat  at  a  table  on  a 
platform,  and  here  and  there,  among  the  pupils,  the 
pupil-teachers  stood  before  their  classes.  There  were 
thirty  young  black  boys  teaching  in  that  school. 

Andungo  and  Asala  came  in  by  the  little  breach  in 
the  wall.  Outside  the  sunlight  was  too  bright  and  too 
hot,  for  it  was  near  noon,  but  in  the  school  there  was  a 
cool  shade.  Andungo  and  Asala  felt  strange  when 
they  stepped  into  that  shadow  crowded  with  the  bodies 
of  wise  young  men  and  boys.  They  stood  together 
near  the  wall  and  whispered. 

"I  fear !  and  I  feel  shame,"  said  Asala. 

"I  too,"  said  her  mother.  "Let  us  go,  they  may 
laugh  at  us." 

"Only  the  promise  that  I  promised  is  able  to  force 
me,"  said  Asala. 

"Come,  then,  we  will  do  quickly,"  said  her  mother, 
and  they  went  on  up  to  the  platform. 

"Ah,  teacher  of  men !"  said  Andungo. 

The  white  man  looked  up  from  a  great  book  that  he 
was  writing. 

"I  greet  you,  mother  of  Mejo,"  said  he. 

"This  little  girl  is  my  daughter ;  she  is  in  a  far  mar- 
riage and  she  makes  us  a  visit.  She  has  a  word  to  say 
to  you." 

"Such  impudence,"  thought  Mejo,  who  was  watching 
from  his  seat  and  feeling  shame.  He  could  see  a  little 
red  feather  in  Asala's  hair  and  that  little  feather  trem- 
bled ;  his  heart  softened.  "She  fears,"  he  thought,  and 
he  pitied  her. 

"It  is  because  of  a  promise  I  made  my  husband  that 
I  have  come,"  said  Asala,  and  her  voice  trembled  like 
the  feather  in  her  hair.    "I  promised  him  that  I  would 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  27 

beg  the  white  man  to  send  a  teacher  to  the  village  of 
Mekok.  The  people  of  Mekok  desire  to  learn  the 
things  of  God.  They  desire  to  read  the  book  of  the 
words  of  God." 

"Who  is  the  headman  o£  the  village  of  Mekok?" 

"My  husband  is  the  headman.    His  name  is  Efa." 

It  was  very  quiet  in  the  school  now  because  all  the 
boys  and  all  the  teachers  were  listening.  Asala  clung 
to  the  edge  of  the  white  man's  table  and  he  saw  her 
little  brown  face  looking  at  him  over  the  edge. 

"Will  the  people  of  Mekok  pay  the  teacher  if  I  send 
him?" 

"My  husband  says  that  he  knows  the  custom  of  pay- 
ing the  teacher,  and  the  people  of  the  town  will  cer- 
tainly pay  the  teacher." 

"Will  the  women  of  the  town  feed  the  teacher  every 
day?" 

"Every  day  they  will  feed  the  teacher.  He  shall  not 
be  hungry  a  single  day." 

"Will  the  boys  and  young  men  of  the  town  build  the 
school  house?" 

"They  will!  Already  they  are  cutting  bark  for  the 
walls  and  hunting  leaves  for  the  thatch.  AH  these 
things  are  understood  by  my  husband  as  the  custom  of 
the  tribe  of  God." 

"Are  there  so  few  Christians  in  your  husband's  town 
that  a  little  girl  must  bring  this  great  message?" 

"There  is  no  Christian  but  me.  I  alone  am  a  Chris- 
tian in  that  town." 

"Then  it  is  from  your  mouth  that  your  husband  and 
the  women  of  his  town  have  learned  this  news  of  the 
things  of  school  and  of  the  custom  of  the  tribe  of  God. 
I  hear." 


28  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

And  the  white  man  took  counsel  with  himself. 

"Will  not  you  yourself  come  to  school  with  us? 
There  is  a  white  woman  who  cares  for  girls  like  you 
and  teaches  the  things  of  women  who  are  women  of 
God.  Does  not  your  heart  draw  you  to  come  and  be 
with  her?" 

The  white  man  saw  tears  soften  those  brilliant  eyes. 

"Tomorrow  I  return  to  my  husband.  I  made  a  prom- 
ise," said  Asala. 

"You  are  a  good  little  girl,"  said  the  white  man,  sud- 
denly, "you  must  keep  your  promise.  Tell  your  hus- 
band that  I  received  his  great  message  from  your 
mouth,  and  that  I  promise  a  teacher  for  the  village  of 
Mekok.  I  will  write  this  word  in  a  book.  I  am  a  'real 
man'  and  I  will  keep  my  promise.  He  too  is  a  real  man 
and  must  keep  his  promise  to  pay  and  to  feed  and  to 
build.    You  may  go  now.    As  you  go — God  keep  you." 

Mejo  watched  his  mother  and  his  sister  go  away. 
"She  is  brave,"  he  thought. 

The  next  morning  Asala  left  for  her  husband's  town. 
Her  father  went  with  her.  And  that  night  Mejo  said 
to  his  brother  Assam, — 

"I  wonder  to  see  Asala  so  brave." 

"It  is  the  power  of  God,"  said  Assam. 

"Will  they  send  a  teacher  as  they  promised?" 

"They  certainly  will,"  said  Assam. 

"Are  you  sure?    Have  they  chosen  that  teacher?" 

"They  have,"  said  Assam,  "and  I  am  that  teacher." 
And  he  put  out  the  light. 

"There  go  my  brother  and  my  sister,"  thought  Mejo 
as  he  lay  beside  his  brother  in  the  dark,  "together 
they  walk  the  new  path  that  is  the  path  of  God.  They 
certainly  have  a  peculiar  courage !"    And  he  sighed. 


THE  FAMILY  OF  AKULU  MEJO  29 

SOME  EXPLANATIONS  FOR  CHAPTER  L 

In  reading  this  book  you  are  reading  about  tribes,  mem- 
bers of  the  African  race  that  is  called  by  the  white  man, 
Bantu.  There  are  many  tribes  of  the  Bantu  people.  They 
live  in  Central  and  Southern  Africa.  Some  parts  of  that 
country  are  forest,  some  are  open  country.  The  open  coun- 
try is  called  by  the  white  man  the  grass  country.  The  Bulu 
tribe  is  living  in  the  forest  coxmtry  about  two  hundred  miles 
north  of  the  equator  and  near  the  west  coast.  The  customs 
of  the  Bulu  are  like  the  customs  of  other  Bantu  people  who 
have  not  been  a  long  time  in  contact  with  the  white  man. 
They  have  no  knowledge  of  the  world  outside  the  forest;  of 
their  own  coimtry  they  know  only  their  own  neighborhood. 
They  travel  on  foot  by  little  trails  from  settlement  to  settle- 
ment. They  have  no  written  language,  but  they  have  a  good 
language  to  speak.  The  men  are  good  hunters  and  fishers, 
and  good  builders  of  towns.  The  towns  of  the  Bulu  are  built 
as  you  will  read  in  this  story,  but  other  tribes  of  the  Bantu 
build  with  different  material, — some  with  grass,  some  with 
clay  and  wattles.  The  Bulu  make  their  furniture  of  wood.  I 
have  told  about  their  furniture  in  the  story.  The  women  are 
the  farmers.  They  plant  bananas  and  plantains,  many  kinds 
of  yams,  peanuts,  corn,  cassava,  savoury  herbs  that  we  white 
people  do  not  have,  and  other  foods  that  we  do  not  have. 
There  are  wild  fruits  in  the  forest,  some  nuts  and  other 
fruits.  But  there  is  no  complete  diet  g^rowing  wild  in  Africa; 
the  people  must  plant  to  eat. 

The  Bantu  tell  time  by  the  sun  for  the  day,  the  moon  for 
the  month,  the  stars  for  the  season.  They  do  not  speak  of 
years;  they  speak  of  rainy  seasons  and  dry  seasons,  and  they 
coimt  time  by  their  plantings,  especially  among  the  Bulu,  the 
planting  of  peanuts. 

News  is  spread  by  travellers,  and  in  another  way — it  is 
announced  by  drums.  Upon  wooden  drums  a  good  drummer 
will  beat  out  a  message  that  sounds  like  the  clicking  of  a 
telegraph  machine.  But  that  clicking  is  very  loud;  it  can  be 
heard  miles  away.  Our  call  drum  at  Eftlllen  mission  station 
could   be    understood    seventeen   miles   away.    Almost   any 


30  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

news  can  be  told  by  the  call  drum,  and  every  grown  person 
has  a  drum  name  by  which  he  may  be  called  from  a  distance. 

All  Bulu  women  and  nearly  all  the  women  of  the  primi- 
tive Bantu  tribes  are  bought  and  sold,  A  little  girl  is  sold  by 
her  father  or  her  elder  brother.  The  man  who  buys  her  puts 
her  with  some  older  woman  of  his  town,  who  will  keep  the 
girl  imtil  she  is  marriageable.  A  Christian  man  does  not  sell 
his  daughter  or  his  sister  before  she  is  marriageable,  or 
against  her  will,  or  to  a  man  with  other  wives. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  little  girls  are  sold  and  sent  away 
from  home,  thdre  is  a  strong  family  love  and  loyalty  among 
the  Bantu.  And  there  is  a  strong  bond  among  the  members 
of  the  clan,  and  the  townspeople.  The  dress  of  Bulu  men 
used  to  be  made  of  the  bark  of  trees,  beaten  into  a  sort  of 
cloth.  Women  used  to  wear,  and  still  do  wear,  aprons  of 
leaves  and  a  kind  of  thick  tail  of  dried  grasses.  They  still 
tattoo  their  bodies,  they  still  wear  necklaces  of  the  coarse 
hair  of  the  elephant's  tail,  or  necklaces  strimg  with  dog's 
teeth,  or  the  teeth  of  leopards.  They  wear  bracelets  of  brass 
and  ivory.  The  men  carry  spears  tipped  with  brass  or  with 
iron.  But  there  are  many  things  now  in  the  forest  that  are 
manufactured  by  the  white  man.  Calico  and  beads  and 
umbrellas  and  hats  and  many  more  things  of  the  white  man 
may  be  bought  of  the  black  traders  who  are  trading  through 
the  forest. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WHITE  MEN  AND  THEIR  ADVENTURES 

T  was  a  dark  night — "the  moon  was  lost", 
as  the  forest  people  say, — and  the  people  of 
Akulu's  village  were  sitting  about  the  fires 
in  the  palaver  house.  There  had  been  an 
elephant  hunt  that  day, — Akulu  had  made  a  strong 
medicine  for  the  hunt  and  yet  the  elephant  had  got 
away. 

"That  is  because  all  my  strong  young  men  are  in 
school,"  said  Akulu,  who  was  in  bad  humor.  "They 
are  followers  of  the  white  man — my  boys  and  my  men 
— their  old  father  goes  to  the  hunt  unattended.  Soon 
the  men  of  our  clan  will  give  me  a  new  nickname,  they 
will  call  me — 

'You  walk  alone!    Where  are  your  brothers?* 

When  they  beat  my  nickname  on  a  drum  that  is  the 
name  they  will  beat — 

'You  walk  alone !    Where  are  your  brothers?* " 

The  young  sons  of  Akulu  sat  together  in  a  little 
group  peeling  and  eating  sugar  cane.  One  of  the  older 
boys  said: 

"Some  boys  took  new  names  today.  Mr.  Krug^  told 
us  stories  of  brave  men,  and  some  boys  said  that  they 
would  name  themselves  for  those  brave  men.** 

"Were  those  brave  men  white  men  or  black  men?'* 
asked  Akulu. 


( 


1  Mr.  Adolph  Krug  is  a  missionary  of  the  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church  in  the  U.  S.  A.  and  has  since  1903  been  engaged  in  edu- 
cational work   at   Elat.    Kamerun,   West  Africa. 


32  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"They  were  white  men,"  said  Assam. 

"What  kind  of  bravery  was  their  bravery?"  asked 
Akulu.  "Were  they  brave  hunters  or  brave  fighters? 
Tell  me  about  that  bravery !" 

"It  was  not  a  bravery  of  hunting  or  of  fighting, — it 
was  a  bravery  of  walking  alone  in  a  strange  country 
among  strangers  and  enemies.  They  were  makers  of 
roads  in  the  forest.  In  canoes  they  followed  strange 
rivers.  Alone  they  approached  great  and  angry  head- 
men. Every  one  of  these  brave  men  might  say  his 
nickname  was — 

"You  walk  alone!    Where  are  your  brothers?" 

At  this  moment,  Akulu  rose  and  went  out  into  the 
dark,  where  his  call  drum  lay  under  the  eaves  of  the 
house.  Presently  he  drummed  the  call  to  his  neigh- 
bors. Akulu  was  a  great  drummer;  far,  far  away  in 
the  forest  the  murmur  of  his  drumming  was  heard  by 
other  headmen  sitting  by  their  own  fires.  "That  is  a 
call  from  the  town  of  Akulu  Mejo,"  they  said;  and 
those  men  whose  villages  were  neighbor  to  his  rose  to 
answer  the  call  from  Akulu. 

He  came  back  into  the  palaver  house  and  sat  down. 

"Go  on,"  said  he  to  Assam,  "this  talk  that  you  talk  is 
a  real  word.  It  is  well  that  other  men  should  hear  this 
talk  about  brave  men.  What  were  they  hunting, — 
these  brave  white  men?  Ivory,  was  it,  or  rubber? 
What  goods  did  they  carry?  Were  they  traders?  Tell 
us  news  of  them." 

"One  of  them  was  Ngutu,^"  said  Assam. 

"He  ye  e!"  cried  out  Akulu.     "He  was  my  friend! 

*  Ngutu  is  the  native  name  of  Adolphus  C.  Good,  a  member  of  the  Presby- 
terian Mission  in  West  Africa.  He  opened  up  the  Bulu  interior,  and  died  in 
that  country.  He  is  still  remembered  by  the  Bulu.  His  widow  and  his  only 
son,  who  is" now  grown,  are  at  work  among  the  tribes  of  that  forest.  Boys  and 
girls  \x-ho  want  to  know  more  of  Adolphus  C.  Good  should  read  "A  Life  for 
Africa,"  by  Miss  EUmi  C.  Parsons. 


WHITE  MEN  AND  THEIR  ADVENTURES         33 

Yes,  I  agree  that  he  was  brave.  That  coming  that  he 
came  to  us  when  I  was  a  young  man  like  one  of  you — 
that  was  a  brave  coming.  Alone  he  came,  as  you  say. 
Ten  black  men  of  the  beach  tribes  walked  in  his  com- 
pany. His  first  appearing  was  in  the  town  of  Abiete. 
All  night  and  all  day  of  the  days  that  he  slept  in  Abiete 
the  drums  of  Abiete  were  busy  with  the  news.  All 
those  days  the  people  of  the  forest  were  running  to  the 
town  of  Abiete  to  see  the  white  man.  Strange  word 
of  him  we  heard.  His  hair  is  like  a  monkey's  hair,  we 
heard ;  his  face  is  not  like  our  faces.  He  does  not  dress 
his  hair;  he  wears  a  thing  on  his  head  that  he  takes 
oflf  in  the  house.  Then,  when  he  goes  on  the  path,  he 
puts  that  thing  on  his  head  again.  His  voice  is  kind, 
his  manner  is  kind.  You  don't  see  his  body  at  all;  it 
is  covered.  The  thing  he  has  come  to  do  we  do  not 
yet  know,  but  he  says  many  words  about  "Zambe — He 
who  created  us."  But  we  do  not  yet  know  truly  of  the 
thing  he  has  come  to  do.  This  is  the  news  we  heard 
of  him." 

Some  of  Akulu's  neighbors  were  coming  in  out  of 
the  night.  They  carried  reed  torches,  and  these  they 
beat  out  upon  the  floor.    To  them  Akulu  said: 

"You  who  are  'real  men,'  do  you  remember  the  days 
of  our  youth  when  Ngutu  came  to  our  coimtry?" 

"We  certainly  remember." 

"It  is  of  those  days  that  we  are  speaking  now.  My 
father  was  then  headman  of  a  town  near  Abiete.  He 
had  many  sons — some  older  than  I — all  brave  young 
men.  And  he  had  brothers  younger  than  he — all  brave 
men.  In  those  days  we  all  carried  gims.  Those  were 
good  days  before  there  came  a  white  governor  to  take 
away  our  guns.    Now  a  man  is  only  half  a  man  because 


34  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

he  has  no  gun.  A  young  man  of  my  time  was  of  a 
peculiar  beauty — so  brave  he  was!" 

"You  say  a  true  word,  Akulu !"  cried  out  an  old  man, 
who  warmed  his  hands  at  the  fire.  "In  those  days  we 
were  as  beautiful  as  leopards.  The  villagers  of  a 
strange  village  trembled  when  we  passed  upon  the 
path;  they  hid  themselves  in  the  forest,  leaving  their 
houses  empty  and  open." 

"How  true !"  sighed  one. 

"The  good  days  of  the  past !"  sighed  another. 

"I  long  for  those  days,"  sighed  a  third. 

"I  dream  of  a  gun  in  a  dream  that  comes  into  my 
head  at  night!" 

"Well,  it  was  so,  as  you  say.  In  your  youth  we  were 
beautiful  and  we  carried  guns.  So  my  father  said  to 
us  all : — 

'When  the  white  man  passes  through  our  town  we 
will  beg  him  to  sleep  in  our  town.  And  when  his  car- 
riers have  laid  their  loads  upon  the  ground,  we  will 
just  steal  those  loads.  That  will  be  easy.  The  goods 
in  those  loads  are  all  fine  goods — beads  for  our  head- 
dresses, yellow  wire  to  make  bracelets,  strange  cloth 
that  is  not  made  of  beaten  bark  like  our  cloth,  and 
bundles  of  wonderful  little  ^sticks  for  making  fire.  It 
is  his  custom  to  give  some  little  portion  of  this  goods 
to  the  men  who  befriend  him — ^but  it  will  be  easy  for  us 
to  take  it  all.' 

"This  was  how  we  took  counsel  together,  and  this 
was  our  plan. 

"The  day  he  came  to  our  town  was  a  day  of  the  dry 
season.  He  came  in  the  late  afternoon,  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  setting  of  the  sun.    Many  of  our  neighbors 

^  Matches. 


WHITE  MEN  AND  THEIR  ADVENTURES         35 

walked  in  his  company,  laughing  and  talking  and  mak- 
ing a  great  noise.  He  did  not  laugh  or  talk.  He 
walked  like  a  man  who  is  worn  out.  I  saw  him  with  a 
great  surprise.  I  called  out  with  the  others, — 'He  ye  e  I 
His  hair  is  like  the  hair  of  a  monkey!  The  strange 
thing  on  his  head !'  I  was  so  surprised  to  see  a  white 
man.  He  came  in  to  the  palaver  house  where  my  fa- 
ther sat.  His  carriers  put  their  loads  down  in  the 
street,  they  came  into  the  palaver  house.  He  took  the 
thing  off  his  head.  He  gave  my  father  a  greeting,  and 
he  gave  us  all  a  greeting — like  a  brother.  He  spoke 
our  tongue,  but  in  a  way  to  make  us  laugh.  He  spoke 
like  the  tribes  across  the  Ntem  river.  You  know  the 
way  we  always  laugh  at  the  talk  of  the  tribes  across 
the  Ntem?" 

"We  certainly  laugh!"  said  young  and  old,  and  they 
laughed. 

"Well,  so  we  laughed  on  that  day  of  the  past  when 
Ngutu  first  spoke  to  us.  We  all  stood  up  in  the  pala- 
ver house,  beautified  with  our  guns  and  fierce  with  the 
fierceness  of  strong  young  men.  We  said  to  my 
father : — 

"  'Let  us  go  now  to  steal  the  loads — there  they  are 
on  the  ground !  His  carriers  have  no  guns — it  will  be 
easy  to  steal  the  loads.' 

"Ngutu  heard  us  say  this,  and  the  carriers  heard. 
They  feared  greatly — those  carriers.  Some  rose  to  run 
away ;  but  Ngutu  said  to  them,  'Sit  down !' " 

"To  my  father  he  said  he  was  weary.  This  much 
talking  made  him  very  weary.  And  he  said  he  was 
thirsty.  He  begged  for  a  drink  of  water.  My  father 
sent  a  little  girl  to  the  spring.  He  looked  at  Ngutu  a 
long  time.    Ngutu  looked  at  him.    We  still  spoke  of 


36  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

the  goods  in  the  load.  Ngutu  drank  the  water  from 
the  spring.    And  suddenly  my  father  said : — 

"  'This  white  man  fears  nothing.  He  must  have  a 
strong  fetish  that  protects  him.  We  do  not  under- 
stand white  men  and  their  medicine.  Let  us  be  wise 
and  treat  him  with  kindness,  or  evil  may  come  upon  us 
and  upon  our  villages.' 

"Then  all  the  young  men  put  their  g^uns  down.  We 
were  disappointed,  but  we  respected  the  voice  of  my 
father  and  we  respected  the  bravery  of  Ngutu.  This 
time  that  I  tell  you  was  my  first  sight  of  Ngutu.  He 
was  not  yet  my  friend.  That  night  by  the  light  of  the 
palaver  house  fires  he  told  us  first  the  news  of  Jesus, 
the  son  of  ^Zambe — He  who  created  us.  He  told  us 
how  the  son  of  Zambe  redeemed  us, — because  we  were 
forgetful  of  Zambe  and  had  broken  the  great  law  of 
Him-who-created-us.  That  was  the  first  time  I  ever 
heard  of  the  tribe  of  God,  that  is  now  so  strong  in  this 
country.  My  own  sons  honor  the  things  of  the  tribe 
of  God  more  than  the  things  of  the  tribe  of  their 
fathers." 

"Not  the  young  only,"  said  Oton, — a  big  man  who 
was  an  elder  in  the  church.  "Many  'real  men'  are 
Christians  and  they  pray  for  you  every  day,  Akulu." 

"Yes,  and  we  pray  for  you,"  said  Assam. 

"Even  so,"  said  Akulu,  "I  am  not  a  Christian.  It  is 
too  much  trouble  to  be  a  Christian.  That  was  always 
the  argument  I  used  to  make  to  Ngutu,  when  he  spoke 
to  me  of  the  tribe  of  God.  Yet  I  was  a  friend  of 
Ngutu.  My  eldest  son  was  bom  the  day  after  Ngutu 
was  put  in  his  grave  on  Efulen  hill.  That  was  my  son 
Ngutu,  who  was  a  Christian  when  he  was  a  lad,  and 
he  died.    The  Christians  made  me  bury  that  boy  with- 


J  Zambe  is  the  Bulu  name  for  the  Creator  of  men. 


WHITE  MEN  AND  THEIR  ADVENTURES         37 

out  any  of  the  dances  of  mourning  or  the  proper 
charms  for  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  They  say  he  sits 
down  in  the  town  of  God.    Who  knows?" 

"I  know,"  cried  out  the  mother  of  the  boy  Ngutu. 
"And  the  path  to  that  town  I  know.  Ah,  Akulu,  will 
you  never  rise  up  to  follow  after  Christ?" 

"Be  still!"  said  Akulu,  "there  is  more  news  to  hear. 
Assam  will  tell  me  news  of  those  brave  white  men — 
they  that  were  spoken  of  in  School  today." 

"There  were  many,"  said  Assam.  "There  was  a 
great  one  named  Livingstone.  Mr.  Krug  told  us  that 
among  all  the  sons  of  the  white  man  none  exceeds  that 
man  for  bravery." 

"Where  does  he  have  his  town — ^that  man  Living- 
stone?" asked  Akulu. 

"He  is  dead  now.  He  died  when  Mr.  Krug  was  a 
baby." 

"That  would  be  a  long  time  ago,"  said  Akulu. 
"What  great  deed  did  this  man  do  that  he  lives  so  long 
in  the  memory  of  his  tribe?  Tell  me  that  thing  he  did. 
Was  he  a  son  of  the  English?" 

"He  was  a  son  of  the  Scotch — and  that  is  a  tribe  I 
do  not  know,  but  brother  to  the  English." 

"Was  he  a  son  of  a  chief?" 

"He  was  not.  The  people  of  his  father's  house 
worked  with  their  hands — ^they  were  weavers  of  cloth 
— the  cloth  of  the  white  man.  Himself  he  made  cloth 
until  God  called  him  to  do  the  work  of  the  tribe  of 
God.  Then  he  studied  many  things  in  books.  He 
studied  medicine." 

"It  is  a  strange  thing,"  said  Akulu,  "how  these  peo- 
ple of  the  tribe  of  God  must  always  be  studying  in 
books.    Now  there  is  Ze,  who  is  headman  in  Yefuzok. 


38  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

I  saw  him  with  my  own"  eyes  sitting  with  a  book  on 
his  knees  and  a  school  boy  was  teaching  him  the 
things  that  are  in  the  book.    I  said  to  him: — 

"  'Ah,  Ze  Zom,  I  feel  shame  to  see  a  headman  learn- 
ing of  a  child.  You  are  a  headman,  like  myself.'  But 
he  just  laughed.  He  said,  *It  is  true  that  you  see  me 
with  your  eyes  for  a  headman,  but  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  I  am  a  servant.  So  I  humble  myself  that 
I  may  read  the  law  of  the  tribe  of  God  in  a  book.  Sit 
down,'  Ze  said  to  me,  'until  I  finish  my  task.' 

"And  then  I  heard  him  say  like  a  sheep,  *B-a-Ba!' 
And  like  a  frog  he  said,  'B-o-Bo !'  " 

Akulu  laughed  and  everybody  laughed. 

"About  Livingstone,^"  said  Assam.  "He  studied 
medicine." 

"Was  he  a  great  doctor  in  his  own  town?"  asked 
Akulu,  "and  a  maker  of  Magic?" 

"He  was  not.  The  great  deeds  he  did  were  not  done 
in  his  own  town,  but  in  the  country  of  the  black  people. 
This  country  that  the  white  people  call  Africa." 

"Livingstone !"  said  Akulu.  "Now  that  is  a  strange 
thing.  I  do  not  know  that  name.  Did  you  ever  hear 
in  our  country  of  a  white  man  by  that  name?" 

Akulu  looked  around  the  palaver  house,  where  the 
fire  lit  the  faces  of  his  friends. 

"I  hear  that  name  for  the  first  time  tonight,"  said 
one  and  another.  "This  is  a  white  man's  fable  that 
you  tell  us.  We  keep  in  our  hearts  the  names  of  all 
the  white  men  we  have  ever  seen!" 

"Not  a  fable,"  said  Assam,  "but  a  thing  of  distance. 
All  the  great  deeds  of  Livingstone  and  his  great  walk- 

'  Boys  and  girls  of  Livingstone's  own  tribe  will  want  to  know  more  about 
him  than  Assam  was  able  to  tell  the  black  men  in  Akulu's  palaver  house  Thev 
will  find  it  in  "Livingstone,  the  Pathfinder,"  by  Basil  Mathews.  ^ 


WHITE  MEN  AND  THEIR  ADVENTURES         39 

ing  were  beyond  the  Ntem  river  and  beyond  the 
Congo." 

"Stop,  boy!"  said  Oton,  the  elder.  "The  Ntem  river 
we  know — do  not  we  fight  with  the  tribes  beyond  that 
river?  But  this  river  you  call  the  Congo— is  that  a 
real  river?" 

"It  is  a  real  river.  The  tribes  who  live  on  that  river 
see  it  every  day.  It  is  a  great  river.  Our  country  of 
Africa  is  a  great  country — more  than  we  black  people 
know.    Mr.  Krug  says  so." 

"Mr.  Krug !"  cried  out  Akulu — "some  day  Mr.  Krug 
will  want  to  tell  me  how  many  wives  I  have  and  how 
many  children.  Has  Mr.  Krug  seen  all  this  great 
country  that  he  can  give  us  so  much  news?" 

"Not  himself.  He  has  not  seen  the  country  that 
Livingstone  saw;  but  he  has  read  the  book  Living- 
stone wrote — all  white  men  read  that  book  and  believe 
it.  In  the  book  are  written  all  those  things  that  Liv- 
ingstone saw  on  his  great  walks." 

"Was  he  a  great  walker?"  asked  Akulu. 

"He  was  the  best.  Even  Ze  Zom,  who  walks  so 
well,  cannot  have  walked  more  than  Livingstone." 

"It  is  hard  to  believe  that,"  said  Oton — "you  know 
that  Ze  Zom  has  this  nickname — 

"  'If  the  sun  sets  I  will  walk  by  moonlight — I  will 
walk  by  moonlight.'  Let  me  tell  you  about  the  walks 
of  Ze." 

"No,"  said  Akulu, — "this  is  a  night  to  listen  to  the 
walks  of  Livingstone.    Where  did  those  walks  begin?" 

"They  began  very  far  from  here  on  the  beach.  But 
not  the  beach  we  know.  If  you  stand  with  the  place 
where  the  sun  rises  on  your  left  hand  and  the  place  of 
the  setting  on  your  right  hand,  then  the  place  toward 
which  you  turn  your  face  is  the  South." 


40  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"The  South !  another  thing  of  the  white  man  !** 

"Yes.  And  if  you  walk  many  seasons — rainy  and 
dry  seasons — then  you  come  to  that  beach  where  Liv- 
ingstone began  to  walk.  That  place  is  called  Cape- 
town." 

"Show  us  on  the  ground  the  things  of  that  white 
man's  walk." 

Assam  took  some  strippings  of  sugar  cane  in  his 
hand.    One  he  laid  on  the  ground  and  said : — 

"This  is  the  beach  we  know  at  Kribi."  Another  he 
laid  upon  the  ground  and  said,  "This  is  the  beach  we 
never  knew — where  the  sun  rises." 

A  third  he  laid  upon  the  ground  and  said,  "This  is 
Capetown."  Then,  with  the  sharp  end  of  a  sliver  of 
sugar  cane,  he  drew  about  these  on  the  clay  of  the 
floor,  an  outline  of  an  ear. 

"This  that  I  draw,"  said  he,  "is  Africa." 

"He  ye  e!"  cried  out  his  father  and  their  friends. 
"Let  us  see  this  thing  with  our  eyes."  And  they  all 
rose  to  see  that  drawing  on  the  ground.  They  leaned 
above  it,  laughing  and  slapping  their  thighs. 

"Show  us  that  river  they  said  that  is  the  Congo." 

And  Assam  made  the  Congo  with  a  strip  of  sugar 
cane.  And  another  great  river  he  placed  for  them — 
that  was  the  Nile. 

"Tell  us,"  said  Akulu,  when  his  friends  had  sat  down 
— "what  the  white  man  was  hunting  on  these  walks. 
What  drew  him  so  far  from  home?" 

"Three  things  he  was  hunting — rivers  and  waters  he 
was  hunting — the  rivers  and  waters  that  were  hidden 
in  the  great  country  of  Africa.  He  was  a  hunter  of  riv- 
ers and  waters." 

"We  hear,"  said  Akulu,  "though  that  is  a  strange 
word.    What  else?" 


WHITE  MEN  AND  THEIR  ADVENTURES         41 

"A  path  he  was  hunting  among  strange  tribes  and  in 
hard  places — this  path  would  be  for  the  caravans  of 
the  missionaries  who  would  follow  after  when  the 
paths  were  known.    He  was  a  hunter  of  paths." 

"We  hear,"  said  Akulu,  "and  that  is  not  so  strange. 
He  was  just  the  man  who  goes  before  the  caravan 
with  a  cutlass.  We  know  that  man  and  how  to  pick 
him.    He  must  be  a  strong  man." 

"And  a  third  thing  he  was  hunting — that  was  news 
of  the  buyers  and  sellers  of  slaves.  In  those  days 
among  many  of  the  tribes  of  the  black  people,  there 
went  many  cruel  foreigners — cruel  they  were  and 
fierce.  It  was  their  custom  to  buy  black  people,  and 
where  they  could  not  buy  to  steal.  Men,  women  and 
children  they  drove  from  their  homes  in  the  forests 
and  in  the  grass  country — out  by  the  paths  to  the  sea, 
where  they  sold  them." 

"To  whom?" 

"To  white  men.  And  these  took  them  beyond  the 
sea  in  great  canoes — ^you  know — what  the  white  man 
calls  steamers." 

"Some  little  news  of  this  thing  I  have  heard,"  said 
Akulu,  "though  it  was  never  a  thing  of  our  neighbor- 
hood. But  why  must  Livingstone  learn  about  the 
slavers?  A  man  of  the  tribe  of  God  would  never  be 
slaving?" 

"It  was  the  news  he  was  hunting — not  the  slaves. 
He  said, — *If  I  see  with  my  eyes  and  tell  with  my  mouth 
the  great  sorrows  of  those  slaves,  their  tears,  their 
hungers,  their  thirsts,  their  wounds,  their  deaths  by 
the  side  of  the  path,  their  poor  dry  bones  still  wearing 
the  chains  and  the  stocks, — if  I  get  all  this  news  and 
tell  it  to  the  great  tribe  of  the  people  of  God  in  the 


42  ^        AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

world,  they  will  listen  and  will  be  angry.  They  will 
rise  up  and  forbid  those  slavers  who  come  from  with- 
out to  spoil  the  villages  of  the  tribes  who  live  in  the 
hidden  places  of  Africa!  This  news  was  the  third 
thing  he  hunted.  Now  you  know  the  three  works  that 
God  gave  him  to  do ;  and  the  things  that  drew  him  on 
those  many,  many  bad  paths  for  those  many,  many 
seasons  that  he  walked.  Until  at  the  end  he  was  old — 
he  was  gray — ^he  was  no  more  than  the  bones  of  a  man. 
But  when  Livingstone  came  to  Africa  he  was  young 
and  strong.  He  did  not  know  at  first  that  God  was 
going  to  push  him  to  walk  so  far.  He  began  to  walk 
among  the  tribes  in  the  neighborhood  of  Kuruman." 
And  Assam  laid  a  leaf  that  was  Kuruman  upon  his  map. 
"But  his  heart  was  not  sitting  down  in  that  neighbor- 
hood— it  pushed  him  north." 

"What  is  north  ?"  asked  an  old  man. 

"North  is  where  you  look  when  the  rising  sun  is  on 
your  right  hand.  The  hidden  things  of  Africa  were  all 
there.  The  lakes  and  the  rivers  and  the  tribes  of  the 
forest  were  there,  but  the  eyes  of  white  men  had  not 
yet  seen  them.  I  will  show  you  the  waters  that  were 
found  by  Livingstone  before  he  died." 

Now  with  leaves  and  little  twigs  Assam  furnished  for 
them  the  rivers  and  the  lakes  of  the  heart  of  Africa. 

"Livingstone  found  this  great  water,  Ngami,"  said 
Assam,  putting  down  upon  the  map  a  little  leaf  that 
was  the  Lake  Ngami. 

"And  this  is  the  river  Zambesi,"  with  a  twist  of  plan- 
tain cord  he  made  the  river  Zambesi,  and  he  told  them 
how  Livingstone  found  "the  early  things"  of  the  Zam- 
besi. 

"And  this  is  Lake  Nyassa,  and  Lake  Mweru  and 
Lake  Bangweolo." 


WHITE  MEN  AND  THEIR  ADVENTURES         43 

"Other  white  men  found  Lake  Victoria  Nyanza  and 
Lake  Tanganyika,"  said  Assam,  "but  I  will  put  them 
down  for  you  to  see  the  many  lakes  that  are  in  our 
country.  And  Livingstone  did  pass  upon  the  Lake 
Tanganyika  in  a  canoe.  Now  you  see  the  lakes  and  the 
waters  found  by  Livingstone.  And  I  will  tell  you  that 
the  years  that  passed  him  while  he  did  this  work  were 
thirty  years  as  white  men  count  years.  And  I  will  tell 
you  that  the  miles  he  walked  were  twenty-seven  thou- 
sand miles.  Miles  are  a  thing  of  the  white  man.  Then 
I  will  ask  you, — was  this  a  small  work  that  he  did,  or 
was  it  the  work  of  a  real  man?" 

"Let  me  say,"  said  Ze  Zom,  "I  who  am  a  real  man, 
and  a  man  who  if  the  sun  sets  will  walk  by  moonlight — 
I  say  that  I  never  knew  that  a  man  could  do  so  great  a 
work."  And  the  others  in  the  palaver  house  agreed. 
Of  other  things  Assam  told  them.  He  told  them  of 
the  sign  that  God  gave  him  while  he  was  yet  a  young 
man,  still  busy  in  the  south — 

"That  sign,"  said  Assam,  "was  a  little  girl  no  bigger 
than  your  wrist.  She  was  an  orphan.  Other  men  than 
the  men  of  her  father's  house  spoke  of  selling  her.  When 
she  heard  that  talk  of  selling  her  she  ran  from  the  vil- 
lage to  the  path  where  Livingstone  was  passing.  She 
sat  down  beneath  his  wagon.  She  begged  Livingstone 
to  take  her  in  his  caravan  to  his  town, — she  would  walk 
all  the  way  behind  his  wagon.  Livingstone  gave  her 
food  and  she  was  glad.  That  day  began  well  for  her, — 
even  so — suddenly  she  cried  out  with  a  loud  crying — 
there  was  a  man  with  a  gun  who  had  followed  her! 
Now  she  thought,  "It  is  finished !"  But  no— a  black  man 
who  was  a  man  of  God  and  who  walked  in  Living- 
stone's caravan  said  to  her — 


44  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

'Take  the  beads  from  your  body.*  She  had  many 
beads  upon  her  body,  and  with  those  many  beads,  by 
the  advice  of  the  black  Christian,  she  ransomed  her 
body  from  the  man  who  had  followed  her.  He  went 
away.  Livingstone  then  hid  that  child  in  his  wagon — 
so  well  that  five  tens  of  men  could  not  have  found  her. 
This  doing  that  he  did  for  that  little  girl — I  say  it  was 
a  sign  of  the  work  he  must  do  for  Africa!" 

"I  understand  your  meaning,"  said  Akulu.  "But  I  am 
thinking, — what  a  poor  price  for  a  girl — just  the  beads 
she  wore.  That  man  with  a  gun  did  not  know  how  to 
sell  a  girl!    I  could  have  done  better!" 

Of  the  scar  upon  Livingstone's  arm  Assam  told  them 
— and  the  day  when  the  ^lion  at  Mabotsa  sprang  at 
Livingstone.  Many  lions  were  in  that  neighborhood 
and  on  one  day  one  lion  killed  nine  sheep ! 

"How  do  you  mean— one  day?"  said  Akulu.  "It  is 
one  night  you  mean!" 

"I  mean  one  day — and  that  day  in  the  middle — with 
the  light  of  the  sun  everywhere.  Livingstone  and 
many  black  people  ran  to  kill  the  lion.  Livingstone 
fired  a  shot.  The  lion  sprang  at  him  and  caught  him  by 
the  shoulder  with  eleven  of  his  teeth — the  lion  broke 
the  white  man's  bone !  He  put  his  paw  upon  Living- 
stone's head, — " 

"He  is  a  dead  man  now !"  cry  out  the  men  in  the  pal- 
aver house. 

"No — because  there  was  a  man  to  save  him — a  black 
man  of  God  was  there.  He  shot  at  the  lion  and  missed, 
but  the  angry  heart  of  the  lion  turned  away  from 
Livingstone;  he  sprang  at  the  black  man  and  caught 
him   on   the  thigh,  he   caught   a   third  man   on   the 


*  There  are  no  lions  in  West  Africa,  but  the  Bulu  have  a  tradition  of  lions. 


CHILDREN  OF  THE  MISSIONARY  AND  THE 
TUSKS  OF  AN  ELEPHANT 


MEDICINE  AND  CHARMS 

Turned  over  to  Southern  Methodist  Missionaries 

by  an  African  Convert 


WHITE  MEN  AND  THEIR  ADVENTURES         45 

shoulder.  Then  some  shot  had  found  him — for  he 
fell  dead !  But  all  those  three  men  still  breathed.  God 
permitted  them  to  live.  This  story  that  I  tell  you  is  a 
story  that  white  men  tell  each  other  and,  when  they  tell 
it,  they  marvel." 

"Well,  we  marvel  too — even  we,  who  are  so  wise  in 
the  things  of  hunting.  That  white  man  must  have  had 
a  strong  charm  against  lions!  Tell  us  about  that 
charm." 

"Tell  us,"  said  Oton — "the  name  of  the  black  man 
who  saved  Livingstone." 

"His  name  was  Mebalwe.  He  was  a  teacher  of 
men." 

"Akeva!^"  said  Oton. 

Assam  told  them  of  Livingstone's  marriage  with 
Mary  Moffat.  She  was  a  daughter  of  a  missionary, 
he  told  them,  so  that  she  understood  all  the  custom  of 
the  tribe  of  missionaries, — how  they  must  be  enduring, 
how  they  must  wander  among  strange  tribes  and  eat 
out  of  the  kettles  of  strangers — she  understood  all 
those  things.  About  their  children  Assam  told,  and 
the  hardships  of  those  early  days  when  this  family 
traveled  by  ox  cart  and  before  Livingstone  sent  his 
weary  family  home,  and  went  on  his  way  alone  through 
the  forests  of  Central  Africa.  In  that  palaver  house 
that  night  mothers  sighed  over  the  death  of  that  little 
month-old  girl  who  was  born  and  buried  and  whose 
grave  was  the  first  Christian  grave  in  that  wilderness. 
"Pity  that  woman,"  the  women  said,  when  they  heard 
Assam  tell  of  a  five  days'  drought  when  Livingstone 
feared  that  his  children  must  die  of  thirst. 

"She  was  a  brave  woman,"  said  Assam;  "Living- 

*  Akeva  is  a  kind  of  thanksgiving  -word. 


46  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

Stone  has  written  that  praise  of  her  in  his  book.  He 
said  that  the  tears  fell  from  her  eyes,  but  she  did  not 
accuse  with  her  mouth.  And  on  the  fifth  day  a  black 
man  of  that  caravan  found  water !" 

"The  women  in  that  palaver  house  heard  with  sor- 
row that  now  Livingstone  sent  his  family  home — "Be- 
cause he  was  so  sorry  for  them,"  said  Assam,  "so  sorry 
for  all  the  wanderings  of  those  little  children  and  that 
weary  woman." 

"But  who  now,"  asked  the  women,  "would  care  for 
Livingstone  and  cook  his  food  for  him?" 

"There  were  black  men  to  do  that,"  Assam  told 
them,  "for  Livingstone  had  been  eleven  years  as  white 
men  count  years  in  Africa  and  he  knew  the  speech  of 
many  tribes.  More  than  ever  God  was  pushing  Liv- 
ingstone to  the  north,  upon  paths  that  were  too  hard 
for  women  and  children.  When  Livingstone  was  alone 
he  walked  more  quickly  than  a  man  may  walk  with 
his  wife."  The  men  in  the  palaver  house  understood 
that.  Black  people  understand  loneliness  and  home 
sickness  with  a  great  understanding.  A  black  man  or 
woman  will  die  of  this  "dryness  of  the  heart"  that 
comes  from  homesickness. 

"But  could  he  not  make  friends  with  the  black  men 
he  met  by  the  way?  Were  there  no  great  chiefs  to 
befriend  him,  as  my  father  befriended  Ngutu  ?" 

"There  were  such  friends.  The  first  of  these  was 
Sechele.  He  was  not  at  first  a  friend,  but  an  enemy. 
He  heard  news  of  a  white  man  and  not  seeing  him  with 
his  eyes  he  was  offended.  He  said.  'Why  does  he 
never  visit  me  when  he  visits?  Because  he  has  not 
been  quick  to  visit  me  but  visits  other  chiefs  who  are 
not  so  great  as  I  am — I  am  angry.  And  when  he  does 
come  I  will  do  him  a  mischief.' " 


WHITE  MEN  AND  THEIR  ADVENTURES         47 

"I  understand  that  man,"  said  Akulu — "tell  me 
more !" 

"When  Livingstone  came  at  last  to  Sechele's  town, 
there  was  a  great  sorrow  there  because  two  children  of 
that  town  were  dying.  And  one  of  these  was  Sechele's 
only  child.  Livingstone  with  his  white  man's  medicine 
healed  those  two  children.  Not  all  the  witch  doctors 
in  that  country  could  heal  those  children,  but  the  mis- 
sionary healed  them.  Now  I  ask  you, — ^What  mischief 
did  Sechele  then  do  to  the  white  man  who  had  healed 
the  children  of  his  town?" 

"What  could  he  do,"  cried  out  Akulu — "but  make  a 
bond  of  friendship !" 

"That  thing  he  did,"  said  Assam.  "And  Living- 
stone spoke  to  him  about  the  things  of  God.  When  he 
told  Sechele  of  the  things  of  God,  Sechele  asked  him 
a  question. 

"  'Why  did  not  the  people  of  your  tribe  come  to  tell 
us  this  news  before?  My  ancestors  have  all  perished 
and  not  one  of  them  knew  what  you  tell  me !'  " 

"That  word  struck  Livingstone  to  the  heart.  After- 
ward Sechele  became  a  person  of  the  tribe  of  God  and 
walked  much  in  Livingstone's  company,  but  Living- 
stone never  forgot  that  word  of  reproach.  It  was  a 
word  to  drive  him  north. 

"And  now,"  said  Assam, — "I  am  worn  out  with  all 
this  talking.  My  voice  has  died  in  my  stomach.  I 
want  to  go  to  bed." 

"Ah,  my  son,"  said  Akulu,  "when  will  we  hear  how 
Livingstone  walked? — is  this  all  the  news  of  his  great 
walking?" 

"It  is  no  more  than  the  beginning,"  said  Assam. 
"Another  night  I  will  tell  you  more." 


48  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

Then  all  the  brown  bodies  of  men  and  women  and 
children  in  that  palaver  house  rose;  they  stretched 
themselves,  they  lit  their  reed  torches  at  the  fire,  and 
the  guests  went  away  murmuring  together  of  the  great 
things  they  had  heard.  The  name  of  Livingstone  was 
heard  along  the  little  paths  of  that  forest  neighborhood 
that  night. 

Me  jo  said  to  Assam  when  they  lay  imder  their  blan- 
ket in  the  dark  of  their  hut, — 

"Ah,  Assam,  what  new  name  did  you  choose?" 

"I  have  not  chosen  yet,"  said  Assam.  "I  am  still 
choosing." 

"I  will  tell  you  my  new  name,"  said  Mejo.  "I  choose 
the  name  of  Livingstone."    Assam  said  nothing. 

"Do  you  like  that?"  said  Mejo. 

"I  think  you  are  full  of  pride,"  said  Assam.  "You 
chose  a  name  that  is  too  big  for  you.  Since  when  do 
you  walk  upon  hard  paths  and  suffer  hunger  that  you 
may  tell  those  who  are  ignorant  of  the  things  of  God? 
That  is  the  work  of  a  boy  who  calls  himself  Living- 
stone." 

Mejo  thought  to  himself,  "Assam  believes  that  I  am 
silly  and  a  coward" ;  and  he  felt  shame  for  a  little  while 
before  he  dropped  asleep. 


A  GREAT  CHIEF 


WHITE  MEN  AND  THEIR  ADVENTURES         49 
SOME  EXPLANATIONS  FOR  CHAPTER  II. 

Certain  African  tribes  have  great  headmen  with  power 
over  many  people.  As  you  read  the  life  stories  of  Living- 
stone, Moffat,  Mackay,  Coillard,  and  other  missionaries,  you 
will  learn  the  names  of  some  of  these  great  chiefs.  Among 
the  Bulu,  however,  the  headmen  are  simple  folk,  with  power 
over  their  own  towns-people,  and  with  just  a  local  fame.  In 
their  own  neighbornoods,  however,  they  are  obeyed  and  re- 
spected.   They  are  tne  governors  of  their  neighborhoods. 

The  Bulu,  like  other  Bantu  tribes,  believe  that  God,  the 
Creator,  has  forgotten  them.  So  they  have  made  up  a  sys- 
tem of  religion  of  their  own.  They  are  sure  that  many  evil 
spirits  are  present  in  the  world  to  do  harm,  and  that  the 
spirits  of  their  dead  ancestors  may  be  induced  to  protect 
them.  To  keep  off  the  evil  spirits  they  make  charms  and 
rules  of  conduct.  To  make  friends  of  friendly  spirits  they 
make  other  charms  and  other  rules;  and  to  induce  the  an- 
cestor spirits  to  guard  the  town  and  the  interests  of  the  clan, 
they  make  little  offerings  and  little  prayers  to  the  wooden 
images  that  are  the  little  habitations  of  the  ancestor  spirits. 
Certain  men  of  the  tribe  make  a  specialty  of  magic;  they  are 
the  witch  doctors  and  have  great  power,  especially  as  every 
death  is  thought  to  be  the  evil  work  of  magic.  Headmen 
must  always  practice  a  certain  amount  of  magic  for  the  good 
of  the  town. 

School  boys,  you  will  notice  in  this  story,  are  respected; 
and  their  wisdom  is  admired.  This  is  very  generally  true  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  gfreat  mission  schools.  The  school 
boy  is  New  Africa.  His  elders  look  to  him  for  light  on  mod- 
em problems.  He  is  distinguished,  not  only  by  his  little 
accumulation  of  knowledge,  but  also  by  the  little  pack  of 
possessions  that  he  has  been  everywhere  ambitious  to  ac- 
quire, and  by  his  new  custom  that  is  not  just  like  the  old 
town  custom.  Often  he  is  proud  and  overbearing,  but  often 
he  is  such  a  boy  as  I  have  tried  to  show  you  in  Assam. 

The  palaver  house  in  a  Bulu  town  is  a  big  house  at  the 
end  of  the  street  where  the  real  men  of  the  village  sit  and 
smoke  and  talk  and  eat.  Guests  are  received  there  and  all 
matters  of  general  interest  are  discussed  there. 


so  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

The  Bulu  were  disarmed  when  Africa  was  divided  up 
among  the  great  white  races  not  so  many  years  ago.  The 
Bulu  came  imder  the  German  government  and  were  grad- 
ually disarmed.  At  the  beginning  of  the  European  war,  how- 
ever, the  black  people  imder  their  white  officers — German, 
French  and  English — were  armed  and  led  into  battle.  This 
little  story  is  written  about  the  time  before  the  war. 

I  would  like  to  say  about  the  narrative  of  Livingstone's 
life  as  recounted  by  Assam,  that  no  boy,  black  or  white, 
could  keep  so  long  a  story  in  his  head.  But  an  African  can 
keep  very  long  tales  in  his  head.  He  is  always  glad  to  illus- 
trate his  tale  as  Assam  did,  by  a  diagram  upon  the  groimd. 
The  story  of  Livingstone,  as  told  in  this  book,  is  told  as  if  it 
were  translated  from  the  Bulu  language,  and  the  comments 
upon  it  are  just  such  comments  as  I  have  heard  a  thousand 
times  upon  one  and  another  account  of  the  things  of  the 
white  man. 


CHAPTER  III. 
ASSAM  TELLS  MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE 


HE  next  night  when  dark  began  to  fall 
Akulu  beat  on  his  drum  the  call  to  his 
neighbors. 

"That  is  the  voice  of  Akulu's  drum,"  said 


one  to  another  in  all  the  little  villages  of  that  neighbor- 
hood. "He  calls  us  to  hear  the  talk  of  his  son  Assam. 
They  say  that  the  talk  of  Assam  last  night  was  a  great 
talk.    We  too,  we  must  hear  that  talk." 

Then  men  took  their  spears  in  their  hands  and 
women  took  their  babies  in  deer-skin  slings  by  their 
sides,  and  by  the  light  of  torches  little  companies 
walked  single  file  on  the  paths  that  ran  to  Akulu's  town. 
All  about  these  people,  who  talked  as  they  walked, 
the  great  forest  was  dark  in  the  night.  The  dew  was 
wet  on  the  feet  of  those  people.  The  torch-bearers 
waved  their  torches  as  they  walked,  and  if  there  were 
snakes  on  the  path  they  slid  away  from  that  light. 

In  the  palaver  house  of  Akulu  too  many  people 
crowded.  They  sat  thick  upon  the  bamboo  beds.  They 
sat  upon  the  clay  floor  of  that  house,  having  first  made 
a  little  mat  of  leaves  to  sit  upon.  The  many  brown 
arms  and  the  many  brown  legs  were  crowded  to- 
gether. The  many  heads  of  men  and  women  turned 
toward  Assam  in  the  firelight.  Bright  eyes  shone  in 
that  light  and  white  teeth  in  many  laughing,  dark  faces. 
Brass  ornaments  glittered  about  the  necks  and  the 
arms  of  the  women  and  the  little  girls,  their  hair  was 
dressed  and  hung  with  garlands  and  fringes  of  beads 


52  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

and  of  shells.  The  women  were  tattooed  and  the  men 
were  tattooed  with  great  drawings  in  a  purple  black 
upon  their  brown  faces  and  upon  their  bodies.  On 
two  tall  drums  that  were  dance  drums,  two  little  wood- 
en images  sat — ^they  were  the  great  fetishes  of  Akulu's 
village.  They  had  eyes  but  they  did  not  see  Assam, 
ears  they  had  but  they  did  not  hear  the  great  talk  about 
Livingstone  that  Assam  talked  all  that  evening  until 
the  middle  of  that  night. 

There  was  still  upon  the  clay  floor  of  the  house  that 
map  which  Assam  had  made  the  night  before.  All  day 
the  idlers  in  the  village  had  bent  over  it,  naming  rivers 
and  lakes,  and  laughing  as  they  named  them.  They 
were  proud  to  know,  after  all  the  generations  of  black 
men  who  had  died  without  knowing — the  "things  of 
Africa."  And  now  they  listened  with  a  great  wonder 
and  a  great  attention  to  the  story  of  Livingstone's  long 
way. 

Upon  Assam's  map  they  followed  Livingstone  from 
Koboleng  to  Linyanti,  from  Linyanti  to  Loando,  from 
Loando  back  to  Linyanti,  from  Linyanti  to  Tette. 
From  Tette  they  could  not  follow  him  home  in  the 
white  man's  boat — ^that  journey  was  too  strange  for 
them.  But  they  welcomed  him  back  to  Africa;  they 
followed  him  up  and  down  the  Zambesi  river  on  his 
second  journey  that  was  so  much  a  water  journey; 
they  welcomed  him  upon  his  return  from  his  second 
visit  home.  They  made  with  Assam  upon  the  map  the 
heroic  journeys  of  Livingstone's  last  eight  years,  when 
he  wandered  from  Lake  Nyassa  to  Lake  Bangoweolo, 
from  Bangoweolo  to  Lake  Tanganyiki  and  from  there 
north  and  west — always  hunting  the  sources  of  the 
Nile,  and  so  nearly  tapping  the  sources  of  the  Congo. 


MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE  53 

That  lonely  and  heroic  man,  in  his  admiral's  cap  of 
tarnished  gold  lace,  came  back  to  the  imaginations  of 
those  black  men  and  women  who  heard  his  story  that 
night. 

All  the  hardships  of  this  journey  were  very  real  to 
the  black  men  and  women  in  that  palaver  house, — all 
the  violent  rains  that  fell  upon  him  were  real  to  them, 
all  the  fury  of  the  violent  sunlight,  all  the  swollen 
rivers  that  he  must  cross  in  canoes  that  must  be  bor- 
rowed from  unwilling  owners,  all  his  bleeding  wounds 
when  he  must  make  his  way  through  thorny  thickets, 
all  his  escapes  from  wild  animals  and  from  unfriendly 
chiefs.  These  dangers  and  these  cares  were  of  a  tribe 
they  knew.  The  men  in  that  audience  were  native  to 
the  dangers  and  the  deaths  of  that  great  forest  which 
sighed  about  their  little  clearing  in  the  night,  as  it  had 
sighed  about  Livingstone  on  all  the  nights  of  his  Afri- 
can wanderings. 

"Tell  us  about  the  great  chiefs  he  met,"  they  asked. 
And  Assam  told  them  about  Sebituane,  that  great  chief 
of  the  Makalolo  tribe  who  ruled  at  Linyanti  on  the 
mighty  Zambesi  river. 

"Before  Livingstone  ever  saw  Sebituane  with  his 
eyes  he  heard  great  news  of  him,"  said  Assam.  "That 
man  was  famous  in  the  mouths  of  men.  They  said 
that  he  was  a  great  ruler,  a  great  warrior,  a  great  trav- 
eler, a  great  runner,  a  great  hunter  and  a  great  giver 
of  gifts.  They  said  that  he  was  kind  to  the  poor,  and 
that  he  liked  to  sit  and  talk  with  the  least  company, 
and  that  sitting  and  talking  with  humble  folk  he  would 
share  the  choicest  food  with  them.  Men  said  of  him — 
'He  is  wise,  he  is  kind !' " 

"Now  there  is  a  man  I  would  like  to  visit,"  cried 
Akulu,  "does  he  still  live?" 


54  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"He  is  dead,"  said  Assam,  "and  I  will  tell  you  about 
that,— 

"Before  Sebituane  saw  the  white  man,  he  longed  to 
see  a  white  man.  That  was  his  great  desire.  It  was 
as  if  God  had  put  that  wish  in  his  heart.  And  when 
Sebituane  saw  Livingstone  his  heart  sat  down — ^he  was 
satisfied.  He  liked  Livingstone.  When  the  day  that  is 
Sunday  came  and  Livingstone  called  all  the  people  to 
hear  the  Word  of  God,  Sebituane  heard  that  Word.  He 
came  to  that  meeting.  He  never  came  to  another  meet- 
ing to  hear  the  Word  of  God,  because  he  sickened  and 
died.  Ten  days  and  four  days  he  lay  upon  his  bed  and 
then  he  died.  The  last  words  Sebituane  said  were 
words  of  kindness  to  Livingstone's  little  boy.  He  said, 
'Take  him  to  Maunka,  my  wife,  and  tell  her  to  give 
him  some  milk.  '  He  never  spoke  again.  Livingstone 
made  a  little  song  about  Sebituane,  and  it  is  written 
in  his  book — he  made  a  little  song  of  grieving.  Those 
who  read  his  book  read  that  little  song  and  remember 
Sebituane." 

"That  is  good,"  said  Akulu,  "Livingstone  had  a  heart 
like  a  black  man.  It  is  certainly  a  thing  of  grief  to  re- 
member Sebituane  and  his  great  desire  to  hear  the 
Word  of  God,  and  that  he  heard  it  only  one  hearing.  I 
like  this  news  of  great  chiefs — ^tell  me  more." 

Assam  told  them  of  Sekeletu,  the  son  of  Sebituane, 
who  sat  in  his  father's  seat  and  ruled  the  Makalolo.  He 
told  of  the  great  state  of  that  young  man,  of  how  when 
he  went  upon  a  journey  he  was  attended  by  strong  men 
whose  headdresses  were  made  of  the  manes  of  lions 
and  the  waving  feathers  of  birds.  He  told  of  how  the 
Makalolo  greeted  their  chief  when  he  passed  their  vil- 
lages saying,  "Great   Lion — mighty  chief,  sleep,  my 


MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE  55 

LfOrd !"  He  told  of  the  flesh  of  oxen  that  was  eaten  by 
the  happy  men  of  such  a  caravan,  of  their  dancing  and 
their  feastings,  of  their  long  talks  about  the  night  fires 
when  they  were  in  camps,  of  their  songs,  and  of  how 
Sekeletu  would  rush  out  with  a  whip  of  rhinoceros 
hide  to  beat  his  young  men  until  they  were  quiet.  The 
story  of  so  much  grandeur — of  so  much  gilded  youth 
and  power  made  the  humble  hearers  very  envious, 
they  wished  to  wander  in  such  caravans,  singing  and 
dancing  and  feasting.  Then  Assam  told  them  of  the 
enemy  of  Sekeletu,  who  was  his  half  brother — Mpepe, 
and  of  how  three  times  in  one  day  he  tried  to  kill  Seke- 
letu. Himself  he  would  be  chief  of  the  Makalolo.  His 
spear  was  raised  against  his  brother  when  Livingstone 
passed  between  the  bodies  of  Sekeletu  and  Mpepe. 
The  body  of  the  white  man  saved  the  life  of  the  black 
chief.  But  for  his  treachery  Mpepe  was  killed  by  the 
Makalolo.  Assam  told  this  of  Sekeletu, — ^that  when 
Livingstone  returned  from  his  long  journeys  to  the 
west  he  found  his  friend  Sekeletu  a  leper. 

"Death  does  not  spare  beauty,"  said  Akulu. 

"You  till  the  ground  that  covers  you,"  said  another. 
And  these  two  sayings  are  Bulu  proverbs. 

Assam  told  them  of  the  twenty-seven  Makalolo  men 
who  carried  Livingstone's  loads  on  his  journeys  to  and 
from  Linyanti  to  the  west  coast,  and  to  the  east  coast. 
He  told  of  the  goods  that  was  in  those  loads, — the  ivory, 
the  calico,  the  beads,  the  brass  wire,  the  many  things  of 
barter  to  buy  food  by  the  way,  and  of  the  four  books 
that  were  in  the  loads.  One  of  these  books  was  a  book  to 
write  in — in  that  book  Livingstone  wrote  the  things  of 
every  day.  He  told  of  the  robbers  by  the  way,  and  of 
those  chiefs  who  came  with  spears  and  arrows  to  kill 


56  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

Livingstone  when  he  should  pass.  He  told  of  God's 
care  over  that  caravan,  so  that  when  at  last  they  re- 
turned to  Linyati  there  was  not  a  man  of  the  twenty- 
seven  missing. 

That  all  the  men  of  the  caravan  saw  their  home  again 
after  such  dangers  upon  strange  paths  was  a  great  mar- 
vel to  Akulu. 

Ze  Zom  said,  "This  doing  was  the  doing  of  God; 
thus  He  cares  for  the  men  who  do  His  work." 

"Tell  us  what  those  forest  people  said  when  first  they 
saw  the  sea,"  said  Akulu,  "did  they  rejoice  to  see  the 
water?  Perhaps  they  danced  the  dance  that  the  men 
of  our  tribe  dance  when  first  they  stand  upon  the 
beach?" 

"They  marveled.  They  said,  'The  ships  are  as  big 
as  houses !  They  are  as  big  as  towns !  These  are  not 
canoes.  And  we  thought  ourselves  sailors.  Only  the 
white  men  are  sailors  that  come  up  out  of  the  sea 
where  there  is  no  more  earth;  but  earth  says, — I  am 
gone,  dead,  swallowed  up,  and  there  is  nothing  but 
water  left.' " 

"That  saying  was  good,"  said  Akulu.  "I  myself  had 
such  a  wonder  when  I  saw  the  sea.  I  see  that  the  Ma- 
kalolo  tribe  have  hearts  like  ourselves.  But  I  am  not 
able  to  think  why  Livingstone,  who  stood  upon  the 
beach  after  such  journeys  upon  such  bad  paths,  did  not 
now  go  back  in  a  white  man's  canoe  to  his  own  town.'* 

"Because  of  his  promise,"  said  Assam,  "The  prom- 
ise that  he  made  to  the  Makalolo  men  that  he  would 
take  them  home." 

"Such  persistence !"  said  Akulu.  "But  I  see  custom 
of  the  tribe  of  God  is  strong  for  the  truth.  They  are 
tied  by  their  promises.  I  see  that  even  in  my  own 
town." 


MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE  57 

Assam  told  them  about  the  return  to  Linyanti  that 
was  slower  than  the  journey  to  Loanda.  Ze  Zom 
said — 

"Yes — because  they  were  now  weary."  And  AssEun 
said  that  they  were  often  ill. 

Those  men  and  women  in  the  palaver  were  glad 
when  Livingstone  found  letters  and  a  package  from 
home  at  Linyanti.  They  laughed  when  they  heard  that 
Livingstone  called  the  great  falls  of  the  Zambesi  river 
after  the  name  of  a  chief  who  was  a  ^woman.  They 
were  angry  at  the  great  chief  Mpende  who  would  not 
befriend  Livingstone,  but  who  made  charms  and  spells 
against  him.  They  marveled  at  that  courage  with 
which  the  white  man  of  God,  when  he  must  cross  the 
Zambesi  river  with  armed  enemies  at  his  back,  sent  his 
men  and  his  goods  over  first,  while  he  himself  amused 
his  enemies  with  his  watch  and  his  burning  glass. 
They  were  so  surprised  at  these  marvels  that  they  let 
the  caravan  pass. 

"Even  so,"  said  Akulu,  "when  he  himself  would  get 
in  the  canoe,  at  the  last,  they  would  then  forget  their 
wonder  and  would  spear  him,  or  shoot  him  with  ar- 
rows.    Did  he  not  fear?" 

"He  did  not  fear,"  said  Assam.  "The  night  before 
this  day,  he  had  said  in  his  heart, — 'Perhaps  they  will 
knock  me  on  the  head  tomorrow.'  But  he  read  in  the 
Word  of  God  that  Jesus  said,  'Go  ye  therefore,  and 
teach  all  nations — and  lo,  I  am  with  you  alway  even 
unto  the  end  of  the  world.*  That  word  gave  him  cour- 
age, so  that  when  he  saw  that  he  must  get  in  the  canoe, 
he  thanked  those  people  for  their  kindness,  he  wished 
them  peace  and  he  turned  his  back.'* 

*  Victoria. 


58  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"Akeva!"  shouted  the  people  who  were  of  the  tribe 
of  God  in  that  palaver  house. 

When  Assam  told  them  of  Livingstone's  home  go- 
ing, they  asked  all  the  news  of  his  town. 

"Besom  b'akele  he !"  cried  out  the  women — and  that 
is  to  say — "Lucky  ones  go  home !" 

These  women  were  thinking  of  the  towns  in  which 
they  were  born,  where  their  fathers  and  mothers  still 
lived,  and  which  they  had  not  seen  since  they  had  been 
taken  away  in  marriage. 

"Besom  b'akele  he!" 

They  asked  were  his  children  glad  to  see  him.  And 
Mary  Moffat — was  she  glad?  They  liked  to  hear  how 
Livingstone  was  admired  in  his  own  country,  so  that 
the  people  crowded  him  in  the  streets  and  in  the  house 
of  God.  They  heard  how  the  great  chief  of  his  country 
made  him  a  present. 

"The  chief  that  was  a  woman?"  asked  Akulu. 

"That  one,"  said  Assam. 

"Then  it  would  be  a  present  of  food,"  said  Akulu — 
"food  that  she  had  cooked  herself." 

"Not  of  food,"  said  Assam,  "but  of  the  yellow  metal 
— the  great  treasure  of  the  white  man." 

"And  when  Livingstone  said  he  would  return  to  the 
country  of  the  black  people,  did  she  not  send  a  present 
to  the  black  people  by  the  hand  of  that  man  who  was 
going  from  her  town  to  the  towns  of  the  black  chiefs? 
Did  she  understand  that  custom?" 

"She  did,"  said  Assam,  "and  she  sent  a  present.  That 
present  was  a  boat  to  go  upon  the  rivers  that  the  work 
of  God  might  be  swift  to  pass  among  the  tribes  of  the 
black  people." 

"She  was  then  a  person  of  God,  that  woman?"  asked 
Ze  Zom. 


MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE  59 

"She  was." 

"Akeva !"  cried  out  the  Christian  women  in  the  pala- 
ver house. 

"If  I  could  send  her  a  present !"  said  one. 

"If  I  could  send  her  some  peanuts  !'*  said  another. 

"If  I  could  embrace  her !"  said  a  third. 

The  people  in  that  palaver  house  watched  the  river 
journeys  of  Livingstone  on  the  Zambesi  and  the  tribu- 
taries of  the  Zambesi  and  into  the  great  Lake  Nyassa. 
They  rejoiced  when  Assam  told  that  Mary  Moffat  came 
to  meet  her  husband  a  day  of  one  rainy  season,  and 
when  they  heard  that  on  a  day  of  the  next  rainy  season 
she  died,  there  was  a  great  compassion  in  the  hearts  of 
those  black  people. 

"Now,  surely,"  they  said,  "he  walks  alone.  Now  he 
will  not  be  wishing  ever  again  to  go  back  to  his  own 
house,  where  the  hearth  is  cold!" 

"But  in  his  own  country  there  were  still  his  chil- 
dren," said  Assam,  "and,  to  see  their  faces,  he  did  go 
back  to  his  own  country.  He  saw  them,  but  he  could 
not  stay  with  them,  because  there  were  still  hidden 
things  in  Africa  that  he  had  not  found.  Waters  that  he 
had  not  yet  found,  better  paths  for  the  caravans  of  the 
missionaries  who  should  follow  him,  and  more  sor- 
rows of  slaves  than  he  had  counted." 

And  Assam  told  his  friends  the  story  of  the  last 
eight  years  of  Livingstone's  life.  About  his  caravans 
Assam  told  them,  and  how  some  of  those  men  were 
treacherous.  There  was  a  new  grief  in  that  palaver 
house  for  the  old  wrong  two  black  carriers  did  Living- 
stone when  they  ran  away,  on  a  rainy  day,  with  his 
medicine  chest,  and  left  him  ill  without  medicine. 
There  was  a  new  praise  that  night  for  the  faithful  boys 


60  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

Susi  and  Chuma,  who  did  not  fail  their  master  even  at 
his  death.  There  was  a  new  sorrow  for  those  days  of 
weaknesses  and  fever — those  months  when  Livingstone 
could  not  walk   because  his  feet  were  sore. 

The  women  that  night  cried  out  when  Assam  told 
them  of  the  little  boy — "no  higher  than  your  knee" — 
who  was  bought  by  a  slaver  before  Livingstone's  eyes. 
Four  yards  of  cloth  was  paid  for  that  little  boy — who 
cast  his  arms  about  his  mother,  and  his  mother  was 
sold  for  two  yards  of  cloth. 

Men  cried  out  when  Assam  told  of  the  great  chief 
called  Casembe.  That  man  had  a  fine  house.  The  gate 
of  his  house  was  ornamented  with  six  tens  of  the  skulls 
of  men. 

"Do  you  speak  a  true  word?"  cried  Akulu,  "now  that 
is  news !" 

"He  was  a  cruel  man,"  said  Assam,  "he  had  many 
people  without  ears  and  without  hands.  His  wife  car- 
ried two  spears.  She  was  carried  by  men.  Men  ran 
before  her  beating  drums  and  swinging  axes  as  they 
ran.    But  that  woman  was  a  good  gardener." 

"She  would  be  too  proud  for  me,"  said  Akulu. 

Assam  told  them  of  the  Manyuema  tribe  and  that 
they  were  cannibals.  "The  people  of  the  Manyuema 
tribe,"  said  Assam,  "did  many  wicked  things  and  Liv- 
ingstone wrote  those  things  in  his  book." 

"Stop,"  said  Akulu,  "while  you  open  a  word  for  me. 
You  are  always  speaking  about  this  book — he  wrote 
this  thing  in  his  book,  he  wrote  that  thing  in  his  book. 
What  kind  of  a  book  was  this?    I  want  to  know." 

"We  too,  we  ask  that  question !"  said  they  all.  And 
one  man  said, 

"I  tremble  when  I  think  of  that  book  in  which  the 
deeds  of  men  were  written !" 


MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE  61 

"His  book  was  like  this,"  said  Assam,  "Livingstone 
said, — *It  is  well  that  white  men  should  know  the  hid- 
den things  that  I  find.  All  the  things  that  I  see  I  will 
write.'  And  that  man  saw  everything.  He  writes 
about  everything.  He  writes  about  lip-rings — ^how  the 
people  of  some  tribes  put  rings  in  their  lips.  He  writes 
about  the  things  of  tattoo,  and  about  the  red  powder 
that  we  black  people  grind  from  the  bark  of  trees  and 
rub  upon  our  bodies  to  make  us  beautiful.  He  writes 
about  beads — those  beads  we  love  and  all  the  many 
tribes  of  beads  that  traders  sell  to  black  men.  Those 
that  are  black  and  the  white  ones  and  the  red  beads  wc 
call  bird's  eye — and  some  tribes  call  them  blood.  He 
writes  about  all  the  ways  of  building  huts,  and  about 
the  little  seats  and  the  beds  in  the  huts  he  writes. 

"He  writes  about  ivory — those  men  who  have  ivory, 
those  villages  where  ivory  is.  About  the  Babisa  tribe 
he  writes  that  they  made  their  door  posts  of  ivory  and 
their  house  pillars  of  ivory." 

"Their  house  pillars  of  what?"  shouted  Akulu,  and 
some  men  in  the  company  sprang  to  their  feet. 

"Of  ivory!"  said  Assam. 

"Some  things  I  believe,  but  not  that  thing/'  said 
Akulu.  "Even  so,  the  tribe  of  the  missionary  is  known 
to  tell  the  truth.    Go  on," 

"He  writes  about  the  great  sunlight  and  the  great 
rains  that  are  stronger  than  the  sunlight  and  the  rains 
of  the  white  man's  country.  He  writes  of  headmen 
who  are  beautiful  and  those  who  are  not  beautiful; 
with  his  eyes  he  judges  them." 

"I  like  that,"  said  Ze,  "most  white  people  are  stupid 
about  judging  the  things  of  the  bodies  of  men." 

"He  writes  about  hunters  and  manners  of  hunting; 


62  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

and  about  how  God  gave  skill  to  blacksmiths,  and  of 
how  wise  black  men  make  salt  out  of  a  kind  of  grass." 

"As  our  fathers  did,"  cried  out  an  old  man. 

"Yes,"  said  Assam,  "and  animals  he  writes  about — 
all  kinds  of  monkeys,  some  very  big  and  some  very 
little.  About  giraffes  he  writes  and  rhinoceroses,  about 
elephants, — those  with  tusks  and  those  without  tusks. 
He  writes  about  lions  that  break  through  the  roofs  of 
houses,  and  of  leopards  that  steal  dogs  and  a  sheep.  He 
writes  about  an  old  man  that  wore  bracelets  of  ele- 
phant hide  on  his  arm — ^two  tens  and  seven  bracelets  he 
wore  on  his  arm — and  that  was  the  number  of  ele- 
phants this  old  man  had  killed  with  his  own  spear." 

"He  writes  about  the  making  of  clay  pots — ^how 
women  make  them  with  their  hands  and  a  little  tool  of 
bone.  He  writes  about  all  tools  of  iron  and  tools  of 
stone.  He  writes  about  flowers  and  about  fruit.  He 
writes  about  drumming  and  about  dancing.  He  writes 
about  spears  and  about  arrows  and  about  the  poison 
that  is  good  to  put  on  arrows." 

"He  writes  much  about  blacksmiths  and  that  they 
are  clever,  and  he  tells  how  the  bark  of  trees  is  soaked 
in  water  and  pounded  into  cloth  with  a  mallet  of  ebony 
just  as  we  do." 

"He  tells  how  for  the  dead  there  is  a  little  hut  made 
and  there  is  put  the  food  that  the  dead  man  loved  while 
he  was  yet  alive." 

^"Pity  us  all,  who  are  of  the  tribe  who  die!" 

"He  writes  about  the  dancers  that  dance  to  make 
rain,  and  all  the  medicine  we  black  people  make  that 
the  rain  may  fall.  He  writes  about  the  great  markets 
of  the  people  of  the  Manyuema  tribe  where  there  gather 
as  many  people  as  come  here  on  a  Sunday  to  hear  the 

*  Buhl   proverb. 


MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE  63 

Word  of  God,  and  about  the  little  girls  who  run  among 
those  many  people  selling  little  cups  of  water  for  a  few 
small  fishes." 

"Since  I  was  born !"  cried  our  Mejo's  mother,  "Now 
that  is  a  new  way  to  catch  fish !" 

"And  in  that  market  he  saw  a  man  with  ten  jaw  bones 
of  ten  men  hanging  on  a  string  from  his  shoulder — ^he 
said  he  had  eaten  those  ten  men,  and  he  laughed." 

"And  that  laugh  is  written  in  the  white  man's  book, 
with  the  count  of  those  ten  jaw  bones?"  asked  Ze  Zom. 

"It  is,"  said  Assam. 

"Pity  that  man  of  evil  deeds,"  said  Ze. 

"He  writes  on  a  certain  day  of  the  Arab  slavers  that 
they  rushed  in  among  the  people  who  had  come  to  that 
market  and  killed  more  than  three  hundred  of  the  people 
of  the  Manyuema  tribe;  and  ten  villages  and  two  vil- 
lages they  burned  that  day.  These  things  of  death 
they  did  to  give  a  sign  that  they  were  a  strong  people 
not  to  be  denied.  I  cannot  remember  all  the  things  of 
death  they  did.  But  Livingstone  made  a  strong  writ- 
ing in  his  book  about  this  matter,  and  he  made  a 
strong  prayer  to  God.  And  he  himself  without  the 
force  of  a  gun  or  other  such  force,  but  with  the  force 
of  a  white  man  and  a  man  of  God  he  forced  the  slav- 
ers to  release  thirty  slaves.  Some  of  those  slaves  so  re- 
leased looked  at  Livingstone,  the  tears  ran  down  their 
cheeks.  I  cannot  tell  you  all  the  things  he  wrote  about 
the  sorrows  of  slaves.  He  counted  all  those  sorrows, — 
their  hungers,  their  thirsts,  their  wounds,  their  chains 
and  their  stocks,  their  homesickness,  their  deaths  by 
the  way  and  their  poor  bones  that  he  saw  continually. 
Until  after  all  his  many  thoughts  of  slaves  and  his  long 
counting  of  the  things  of  the  driven  slave  he  said: 


64  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"  *Of  five  men  who  are  hunted  and  taken  by  the 
slaver — one  man  alone  survives  the  troubles  of  the 
path  from  his  own  country  to  the  sea !'  " 

"Pity  those  slaves!"  cried  out  Assam's  friends. 

"Other  things  he  counted  and  wrote  in  his  book," 
said  Assam.  "Every  kindness  that  was  ever  done  to 
him  and  his  men.  Every  present  of  an  ox  or  an  ivory 
or  a  hen  or  an  ear  of  corn.  Every  great  kindness  and 
every  least  little  kindness  is  written  in  that  book.  It 
is  written  that  on  a  night  of  the  rainy  season,  when  he 
was  upon  a  journey  with  Sekeletu,  Livingstone  lay 
down  to  sleep  in  his  wet  clothes  and  Sekeletu  gave  him 
his  own  blanket  to  cover  his  body  that  night." 
,  "I  like  to  think  that  man  had  friends,"  said  Akulu, 
"when  he  was  so  long  with  the  black  people  that  the 
white  people  forgot  him." 

"They  did  not  forget  him,"  said  Assam,  "and  I  will 
tell  of  his  great  white  friend.  After  those  terri- 
ble things  of  death  that  Livingstone  saw  among  the 
Manyuema  people  when  the  slavers  killed  them — Liv- 
ingstone went  away.  He  was  sick  with  sorrow.  He 
went  to  Njiji.  That  was  a  bad  journey.  Three  times 
in  one  day  he  escaped  death.  One  spear  on  that  day 
grazed  his  neck ;  another  spear  fell  at  his  hand,  and  a 
great  tree  in  falling  fell  so  near  him  that  he  was  cov- 
ered with  dust.  But  the  poor  white  man  felt  such  a 
great  weakness  of  the  body  that  he  thought  he  was 
dying  as  he  walked.  And  on  that  day  his  goods  was 
stolen  from  him, — all  that  was  left  of  his  calico ;  a  glass 
to  see  the  things  that  are  far  away ;  his  umbrella ;  five 
spears." 

"Such  a  day !"  said  Ze  Zom,  "If  I  were  not  a  person 
of  God,  I  would  certainly  say  that  there  was  a  charm 
to  keep  that  man  alive !    God  is  a  great  keeper !" 


MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE  65 

"He  was  now  no  more  than  the  bones  of  a  man — 
hunger  and  sickness  had  caught  him.  But  he  thought 
always  of  the  food  at  Njiji — ^where  he  would  find  much 
goods.  He  had  begged  his  friends  to  send  him  a  cara- 
van of  goods.  He  wrote  in  his  letter, — 'I  will  meet 
that  goods  at  Njiji !'  So  he  came  to  that  place  with  an 
empty  stomach,  as  a  man  returns  from  a  hungry  coun- 
try to  his  own  toWn  and  he  believes  that  there  is  good 
food  for  him  in  the  kettles  of  his  own  town." 

'•Well,  when  he  came  to  Njiji — here  is  the  thing  Liv- 
ingstone saw.  He  saw  the  slaves  of  the  Arab  whose 
name  was  Shereef  and  those  slaves  were  coming  from 
the  market  with  all  good  things  in  bundles  on  their 
heads.  They  had  traded  the  goods  of  Livingstone  for 
those  things  of  the  market.  Because  the  men  had  sent 
Livingstone's  goods  to  Shereef,  the  Arab,  with  this 
word, — 'Keep  the  goods  of  this  caravan  until  the  white 
man  comes.'    And  Shereef  had  stolen  that  goods !" 

"If  I  were  a  young  man,"  cried  out  Akulu,  "I  would 
walk  to  that  town  of  Njiji,  and  with  my  own  hand  I 
would  kill  that  thief!" 

"And  we  would  walk  in  your  company !"  shouted  the 
men  in  the  palaver  house. 

"Listen  to  the  great  escape  God  made  for  him.  Five 
days  Livingstone  sat  in  that  town  eating  what  little 
food  he  could  buy  and  his  heart  was  heavy  in  his 
stomach.  On  the  fifth  day  Susi  and  Chuma  ran  to  tell 
their  master  that  a  white  man's  caravan  was  coming 
on  the  path  from  the  rising  sun.  They  ran  to  greet 
that  white  man,  they  thought  he  was  an  Englishman. 
But  when  Livingstone  saw  the  caravan  he  saw  that  the 
first  carrier  had  a  piece  of  cloth — it  was  like  the  piece 
of  cloth  that  is  hung  over  the  mission  station  on  a 
pole." 


66  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"Then  it  was  the  American  flag,"  cried  out  little 
Mejo. 

"You  have  said  it,"  said  Assam,  "and  that  white 
man  was  the  man  the  people  of  America  sent  to  find 
Livingstone.  They  said  in  their  hearts, — 'All  these  days 
that  Livingstone  does  the  work  of  God  in  the  hidden 
places  of  Africa — What  is  his  news?  Does  he  still 
breathe?  Or  is  he  dead?'  To  answer  these  questions 
the  people  of  that  tribe  sent  Stanley." 

"That  was  a  great  meeting  of  two  white  men,^'  said 
Akulu,  and  the  people  in  the  palaver  house  listened 
to  all  the  news  of  that  meeting.  They  heard  how  Liv- 
ingstone, when  he  saw  all  the  goods  in  that  caravan — 
the  pots  and  kettles  and  tents  and  tin  baths,  thought 
in  his  heart;  "Here  walks  a  rich  man  and  not  a  poor 
vagabond  like  me." 

They  heard  how  Stanley  knew  Livingstone  by  the 
cap  he  was  always  known  to  wear.  They  heard  how 
Stanley  took  off  his  helmet  when  he  saw  Livingstone, 
and  Livingstone  took  off  his  cap— as  white  men  do  in 
salutation.  And  that  they  then  thanked  God  for  their 
meeting. 

The  Africans  understand  homesickness  and  loneli- 
ness too  well.  They  were  glad  that  night  in  Akulu's 
palaver  house  that  Livingstone  could  speak  with  Stan- 
ley the  tongue  of  his  own  tribe — after  six  years  of  lone- 
liness. 

"Surely,"  they  said,  "the  talk  of  those  two  white  men 
must  have  been  as  abundant  as  rain."  They  were  glad 
of  the  many  letters  that  Stanley  brought  Livingstone, 
and  of  the  presents  he  brought  him.  When  they  heard 
that  Stanley  begged  Livingstone  to  go  home  with  him, 
they  thought  he  must  surely  go.    But  no,  Assam  told 


MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE  67 

them,  Livingstone  did  not  go  home.  He  remained  to 
finish  his  work. 

"For  five  moons  those  two  white  men  ate  out  of 
the  same  kettle,  they  walked  in  the  same  caravan, 
they  slept  in  the  same  tent,  they  talked  the  talk  of 
friends.  Then  Stanley  rose  up  and  went  away.  That 
morning  he  went  away  he  could  not  eat  for  sorrow. 
Livingstone  showed  Stanley  the  path.  Stanley  looked 
at  Livingstone  many  times ;  he  thought  in  his  heart, — 
'Perhaps  I  will  never  see  this  man  again.'  He  said  to 
Livingstone, — 'The  best  of  friends  must  part,  you  have 
come  far  enough,  now  I  must  beg  you  to  go  back.' " 

"Livingstone  gave  Stanley  great  thanks  for  his  many 
good  deeds  to  him.  He  said  to  Stanley, — *God  guide 
you  safe  home.'  They  parted.  Who  knows  the  things 
of  the  heart  of  Livingstone  when  he  watched  the  going 
away  of  Stanley !  No  other  white  man  had  shown  him 
such  kindness.  In  his  book  Livingstone  wrote  about 
Stanley — 'a  dutiful  son  could  not  have  done  more.'  " 

"No  white  man  ever  saw  Livingstone  again.  All  the 
kindnesses  that  Livingstone  ever  knew  again  were  the 
kindness  of  black  people," 

Now  it  was  very  late  at  night — "the  night  was  in  the 
middle" — while  Assam  told  his  friends  about  the  end 
of  Livingstone's  long  way.  They  listened  in  silence. 
"With  the  eyes  of  the  heart,"  as  the  Bulu  say,  they 
saw  the  last  journeys  of  that  tired  man. 

"Now  he  can  no  longer  walk,  and  the  men  of  that 
last  and  faithful  caravan  make  a  hammock  swung  to  a 
pole  and  they  carry  him.  At  night  they  build  little  shel- 
ters where  he  sleeps.  Coming  to  a  village  called  Ilala 
they  make  a  little  shelter.  The  chief  of  that  town  is  Chit- 
ambo,  he  and  his  people  are  all  away  in  their  gardens. 


68  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

They  hear  that  the  white  man  is  come ;  they  return  to 
look  at  him  where  he  lies  under  the  eaves  of  a  hut. 
They  lean  upon  their  bows  looking  at  him.  The  rain 
falls ;  and  his  men  build  the  shelter.  Those  men  know 
all  the  work  of  the  white  man's  camp.  Livingstone  is 
glad  that  night  to  be  in  his  shelter." 

"The  next  day  Livingstone  is  very  weak;  he  cannot 
talk  with  Chitambo  who  comes  to  salute  him." 

"The  second  night  in  the  village  of  Ilala,  Living- 
stone is  no  better.  A  fire  is  laid  at  the  door  of  his  hut 
and  some  of  his  men  sit  about  that  fire.  Once  in  the 
night  Susi  went  in  to  the  hut  and  Livingstone  speaks 
to  him.  Just  before  the  crowing  of  cocks  Susi  and 
Chuma  with  three  other  men  went  into  the  hut.  There 
was  a  candle  burning  there  and  by  that  little  light  the 
men  saw  their  master  on  his  knees  beside  his  bed. 
They  knew  that  to  kneel  was  his  custom  when  he 
prayed.  But  soon  they  saw  that  he  no  longer  breathed. 
When  they  touched  him  they  found  that  he  was  cold." 

"They  laid  their  master  on  the  bed,  they  covered 
him.  They  went  out  into  the  night  to  consult  together. 
They  then  heard  the  cocks  crow.  They  did  not  wail  or 
cry  out  as  foolish  men  would  have  done;  they  knew 
that  they  must  be  wise  and  silent.  They  were  far  from 
home,  without  a  protector.  They  were  among  a 
strange  people  who  would  accuse  them  and  perhaps 
kill  them  when  it  would  be  an  open  word  that  the 
white  man  died  in  Chitambo's  town.  Those  people  of 
Ilala  would  be  saying  that  the  spirit  of  the  white  man 
was  come  to  trouble  their  town.  So  Livingstone's  sor- 
rowful men  spoke  quietly  together." 

"They  chose  Susi  and  Chuma  for  their  leaders. 
They  said  that  the  body  of  Livingstone  and  all  his 


ONE  OF  17,000  SCHOOLBOYS  IN 
SOUTHERN  KAMERUN 


MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE  69 

goods  must  be  carried  to  the  beach.  They  said  they 
would  keep  his  death  secret.  But  when  the  next  day 
was  in  the  middle,  Chitambo  came  to  them.  He  said, 
'Why  did  you  not  tell  me  the  truth?  I  know  that  your 
master  died  last  night.  You  were  afraid  to  let  me 
know,  but  do  not  fear  any  longer.  I  know  that  you 
have  no  bad  motives  in  coming  to  our  land,  and  death 
often  catches  travelers  on  their  journeys.' " 

"Chitambo  spoke  many  wise  words  to  those  poor 
men  who  mourned  their  master.  And  in  his  town  he 
permitted  them  to  prepare  Livingstone's  body  for  the 
journey.  In  Chitambo's  town  the  heart  of  Livingstone 
was  buried  near  a  great  tree  that  was  a  mark  for  that 
grave.  With  a  knife  they  cut  upon  that  tree  the  name 
of  Livingstone." 

"They  wrapped  the  body  in  cloth,  and  again  they 
wrapped  it  in  bark.  They  said  'good-bye'  to  their 
friend  Chitambo  and  to  the  people  of  Ilala;  they  went 
off  on  the  paths  to  the  sea  carrying  their  dead  master." 

"For  nine  moons  they  walked  upon  that  journey  and 
God  cared  for  them.  Many  troubles  they  saw  upon 
that  journey,  but  none  conquered  them.  Some  tribes 
were  friendly  to  them  and  some  unfriendly.  Once  they 
feared  that  the  body  of  their  master  would  be  stolen. 
Then  they  pretended  to  carry  it  away  to  bury  it.  But 
they  did  not  bury  it.  They  made  a  new  cover  for  it. 
The  old  cover  of  the  bark  of  trees  they  threw  away, 
and  about  the  body  they  wrapped  calico  until  you 
would  certainly  have  said,  those  men  are  carrying  a 
load  of  calico.  Now  none  of  the  tribes  by  the  way 
knew  that  the  body  of  a  white  man  was  among  the 
loads." 

"This   long   work   of  carrying  their   master,   those 


70  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

black  men  did  because  they  loved  him ;  they  were  faith- 
ful men.  When  they  came  at  last  to  the  beach,  they 
delivered  the  body  to  the  white  men  there,  and  they 
were  praised." 

"The  body  was  known  by  the  old  scar  on  the  arm, 
where  the  lion  had  wounded  Livingstone  long  days 
before  at  Mabotsa  so  the  body  was  received  by  the 
white  men.  By  them  it  was  sent  across  the  sea.  And 
Susi  and  Chuma  were  sent  across  the  sea  to  tell  the 
people  of  Livingstone's  tribe  all  the  last  things  of  Liv- 
ingstone and  to  receive  the  thanks  of  the  people  of  his 
tribe  for  their  long  carrying  of  Livingstone's  body." 

"That  body  the  white  people  buried  in  a  great  house 
of  God  that  is  in  their  great  town.^  They  keep  his 
memory;  they  count  the  lakes  and  the  rivers  that  he 
found ;  they  destroy  the  things  of  slaving  where  he  said 
that  they  must  destroy  them.  They  send  missionaries 
in  companies  upon  the  paths  where  he  walked  alone. 
They  do  not  let  his  name  die.  Black  men  who  hear  his 
name,  as  we  hear  it,  never  forget  that  name  again.  We 
ignorant  ones  who  say  that  the  spirits  of  the  dead  re- 
turn to  harm  us — what  will  we  be  saying  about  this 
white  man  who  is  dead  since  Mr.  Krug  was  a  baby, 
and  only  good  things  spring  from  remembrance  of 
him?" 

"I  say  that  he  is  the  ancestor  of  missionaries !"  said 
Akulu. 

"I  say  that  God,  when  He  built  the  house  that  is 
Africa,  made  a  servant  to  furnish  it,"  said  Oton  the 
elder. 

"I  say  that  a  blacksmith  could  not  have  done  better 
than  Susi  and  Chuma  did,"  said  the  blacksmith  of 
Asok. 


■  Westminster  Abbey  in  London. 


MORE  ABOUT  LIVINGSTONE  71 

"I  say  that  it  is  near  morning,"  said  Assam,  "and  the 
star  that  keeps  the  dawn  is  risen." 

"Good  night,  Assam,"  said  all.  "Great  thanks!" 
And  they  began  to  light  their  torches  and  to  go  weary 
to  their  beds.  But  as  they  went  they  still  spoke  to- 
gether of  the  things  that  they  had  heard. 

"I  have  more  than  ten  questions  in  my  heart,"  said 
Ze  Zom. 

But  none  waited  to  hear  or  to  answer. 

"Assam,"  said  Mejo  in  a  sleepy  voice,  when  they  lay 
upon  their  bed,  "I  will  be  Susi  or  perhaps  Chuma." 

"Not  yet,"  said  Assam. 


72  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

SOME  WORDS  ABOUT  CHAPTER  IIL 

Any  one  reading  the  story  of  Livingstone,  as  recounted 
in  this  book,  must  not  be  satisfied  with  this  account.  Poor 
black  men  and  women,  sitting  by  the  palaver  house  fire, — 
what  could  they  know  of  the  great  adventures  and  the  great 
heart  of  that  great  Christian  Adventurer.  It  is  for  white  peo- 
ple to  know  and  to  admire  this  hero  of  their  race.  All  that 
treasure  of  heroism  that  is  stored  in  the  great  books  by  Liv- 
ingstone and  about  Livingstone  are  the  inheritance  of  the 
tribes  of  the  white  man.  Other  such  treasure  there  is  in  the 
lives  of  Robert  and  Mary  Moffat,  Mackay  the  white  man  of 
Works,  Hannington  the  lion  hearted,  Mary  Slessor  of  Old 
Calabar.  Not  to  please  any  one  other  than  oneself  should 
these  books  be  read — and  Ohi  I  promise  you — the  long 
hours  of  pleasing! 


CHAPTER    IV. 
AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  DWARFS 

HE  next  day  after  school,  Mejo  presented 
himself  to  his  father  in  the  palaver  house. 
"I  am  going  with  Assam  when  he  goes 
to  teach  the  school  at  Mekok,"  he  said. 
"Some  boy  must  go  with  him  and  I  must  be  that  boy. 
I  told  Mr.  Krug  this  morning  that  I  must  be  that  boy, 
and  now  I  tell  you." 

"How  do  you  mean — you  must"  said  Akulu.  "Who 
has  tied  you  to  this  journey?  When  I  look  at  you  I 
see  you  still  a  child  and  not  yet  a  person  to  go  on  long 
journeys." 

"No  one  has  tied  me,  but  my  own  heart  has  tied  me. 
I  see  that  for  a  person  of  the  tribe  of  God,  even  if  he  is 
no  more  than  a  child,  there  is  work  to  do." 

"I  hear,"  said  Akulu,  "and  I  agree.  Because  I  want 
a  boy  of  mine  if  he  must  be  a  Christian,  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian with  courage.    When  do  you  leave  ?" 

"School  closed  today  and  we  leave  day  after  to- 
morrow." 

Two  days  later,  at  the  hour  of  the  rising  of  the  sun, 
there  was  a  farewell  meeting  for  the  boys  who  were 
going  to  teach  the  vacation  schools.  Under  the  eaves 
of  the  school  house  they  left  the  loads  they  must  carry 
on  their  journey ,  and  went  in  to  their  meeting.  Many 
people  of  the  tribe  of  God  were  there  to  bless  these 
boys  before  they  went.  Mejo's  mother  was  there ;  she 
looked  at  her  boy  in  his  white  singlet  and  his  bright 
loin  cloth,  sitting  down  in  the  company  of  the  young 


74  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

men  who  were  going  upon  such  lonely  journeys.  She 
could  not  sing  with  her  friends  when  they  sang  the 
songs  they  love. 

"Everywhere  with  Jesus  I  can  safely  go,"  they 
sang.  And  they  sang — "Faith  is  the  Victory."  But 
she  could  not  sing  with  them  that  morning.  Ze  Zom 
prayed  for  them  and  in  her  heart  she  could  pray.  Mr. 
Krug  said  wise  words  to  them,  but  she  did  not  listen 
to  those  wise  words.  Many  questions  troubled  her 
heart: 

"Where  will  my  boy  sleep  tonight?" 

"They  say  there  is  a  great  river  to  cross  on  that  jour- 
ney. Ah,  God,  do  not  let  him  drown  in  that  river.  I 
have  no  other  son!" 

"Will  the  women  of  that  strange  town  give  him  good 
food  to  eat?" 

These  questions  troubled  her.  Presently  she  saw 
the  boys  rise  to  go  away.  They  crowded  about  their 
loads  that  were  under  the  eaves.  These  loads  were 
carefully  tied  into  a  rattan  casing,  with  shoulder  straps 
made  of  soft  strands  of  plantain  fibre.  When  the  boys 
slipped  their  arms  into  these  straps  the  loads  just 
fitted  their  backs. 

Assam  had  a  heavy  load  of  slates  and  school  books. 
Mejo  carried  their  little  personal  belongings — some 
brass  rings  and  needles  and  fish  hooks  and  matches — 
these  were  to  buy  food  and  lodging  by  the  way.  He 
carried  their  lantern  and  a  clock.  On  top  of  his  load 
and  of  every  load  there  was  a  little  piece  of  dried  fish. 
Mr.  Krug  gave  this  present  to  every  boy  for  a  great 
treat.  Now  Mejo's  mother  put  a  corn  cake  upon 
Assam's  load  and  upon  Mejo's  load. 

"Walk  well,"  she  said,  and  everyone  said  to  those 
little  caravans, — 


AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  DWARFS  75 

"Walk  well— God  keep  you !" 

The  boys,  leaning  forward  a  little  under  the  weight 
of  their  loads,  looked  gravely  at  the  members  o£  their 
clan  gathered  about  them  in  the  early  morning  light. 
Already  they  felt  pangs  of  the  homesickness  that  is  a 
familiar  sorrow  to  the  African.  They  said,  "We  must 
go!" 

"Goon!" 

And  they  walked  away,  all  leaning  forward  a  little 
because  of  their  loads.  They  were  still  walking  in  a 
group  until  they  should  come  to  the  first  four  partings 
of  the  way,  when  they  would  separate  into  four  com- 
panies. And  so  at  partings  of  the  way  they  would 
continue  to  separate  all  day  until  two  and  two  would 
be  left  to  walk  together. 

At  noon  of  this  day,  Assam  and  Mejo  came  to  a  fork 
in  the  path  where  their  last  two  friends  must  leave 
them.  Here  the  four  sat  down  to  eat  their  corn  cakes. 
From  a  running  stream  near-by  they  drank,  making 
cups  of  great  leaves.  In  the  thick  shade  of  the  forest 
there  was  no  yellow  fall  of  sunlight.  One  path  ran 
brown  among  the  roots  of  trees.  It  was  a  worn  path — 
even  a  white  man  could  have  followed  that  path.  But 
the  second  path  at  the  forking  of  the  way  was  a  path 
so  thin — such  a  thread  of  a  path — that  a  white  man 
might  easily  pass  by  and  never  see  it.  This  was  the 
way  to  the  dwarf  people  who  followed  the  little  dwarf 
headman,  Be. 

Oton's  son,  Obam,  was  going  to  spend  the  vacation 
speaking  the  Word  of  God  to  the  dwarfs.  Little  Minla, 
a  boy  of  twelve  and  one  of  the  white  doctor's  errand 
boys,  was  with  him.  These  two  boys  had  been  very 
carefully  chosen  for  this  work.    They  had  a  good  rep- 


76  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

utation  for  endurance.  Work  among  the  tribes  of  the 
dwarfs  is  very  difficult;  Obam  and  his  companion 
would  have  much  wandering  before  they  would  sleep 
again  on  the  beds  or  eat  out  of  the  kettles  of  their  own 
town. 

"Where  will  you  sleep  tonight?"  Obam  asked  Assam. 

"I  will  sleep  in  Aka's  town,"  said  he. 

"That  is  too  far,"  said  Obam,  "I  know  this  path  bet- 
ter than  you  do.  The  houses  of  that  town  will  be 
barred  for  the  night  before  you  reach  there.  Sleep 
with  us  among  the  dwarfs.  We  had  word  on  Sun- 
day that  they  are  in  their  little  old  clearing  by  the 
Bekua  river,  drying  the  meat  of  the  monkeys  they 
killed  on  their  last  hunt." 

So  the  four  boys  went  by  way  of  the  thread  of  a 
trail  through  the  deep  forest  to  the  dwarf  clearing. 

No  human  being  stirred  in  that  clearing  when  the 
school  boys  came  out  of  the  shadow  of  the  forest  into 
the  sunny  open.  Little  shelters  built  of  leaves  were 
there,  fires  burned  in  the  shelters.  Fires  burned  in 
the  center  of  the  clearing,  and  upon  forked  sticks  about 
these  fires  hung  the  meat  of  monkeys. 

A  white  man  would  have  thought  that  the  inhab- 
itants of  that  settlement  were  far  away,  but  the  school 
boys  knew  that  bright  eyes  were  watching  them  from 
the  near  wall  of  the  forest.  They  laid  their  loads  aside, 
sighing  with  relief.  The  biggest  shelter  of  leaves  they 
knew  must  be  the  palaver  house ;  there  they  sat  down, 
sure  that  the  dwarfs  would  soon  be  coming  to  salute 
them. 

Oton,  the  father  of  Obam,  was  a  friend  of  Be,  the 
headman  of  this  group.  Often  Oton  had  followed 
them  to  trade  the  things  of  "real  people"  for  dried  meat 


"JUST  A  BIT  SHY" 


AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  DWARFS  77 

and  honey  and  nuts, — "The  things  of  dwarfs."  Obam 
had  come  with  his  father  on  these  trading  expeditions, 
and,  when  Be  saw  from  his  hiding  place  the  face  of  his 
friend's  son,  he  came  quickly  to  salute  him.  After  him 
came  many  little  brown  bodies  of  dwarf  men  and 
women  and  children.  Soon  that  little  leafy  shelter  was 
full  of  these — who  looked  in  silence  at  the  beautiful 
young  men  of  the  Bulu  tribe,  so  grand  in  their  singlets 
and  their  loin  cloths. 

Some  of  the  dwarf  men  were  no  bigger  than  Mejo. 
Some  were  bigger,  but  none  was  so  big  as  Assam.  The 
women  were  very  little  women,  they  wore  aprons  and 
tails  of  grass.  The  men  wore  loin  cloths  of  the  bark  of 
trees.  Be  himself  wore  a  loin  cloth  given  him  by 
Oton.  He  was  hoping,  as  he  looked  at  Obam,  that 
there  was  much  fine  goods  for  him  in  the  loads. 

"I  greet  you  all,"  said  Be  to  the  school  boys;  and 
they  greeted  him. 

"I  ask  you — why  have  you  come  to  us  at  this  time? 
Is  it  because  of  the  meat  of  the  last  hunt  that  is  now 
drying  by  the  fires?  Did  the  news  of  that  meat  bring 
you  with  cloth  and  other  goods  to  trade  for  it?  Much 
money  I  have  in  little  gourds,  do  you  wish  to  trade  for 
it?  Or  nuts,  do  you  wish?  Open  up  the  loads  quickly 
so  that  I  may  see  the  beautiful  goods  brought  to  me 
by  Obam  the  son  of  Oton." 

"Two  of  those  loads  are  on  a  journey,"  said  Obam. 
"They  sleep  but  one  night  in  your  town.  And  these 
two  loads  that  are  mine  are  not  loads  of  barter.  They 
are  my  blanket  to  cover  me  at  night  and  a  lantern  and 
some  oil.  There  are  besides  some  of  the  words  of  God 
that  I  have  brought  for  your  ears.  Ah,  Be — ^headman 
of  this  people — my  father,  Oton,  and  other  great  men 


78  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

of  the  Bulu  tribe  who  are  now  members  of  the  tribe  of 
God — they  desire  to  share  with  you  the  "Things  from 
above."  So  they  have  sent  two  of  their  sons  to  open 
for  you  these  things  that  have  been  hidden  from  you 
in  the  past." 

"As  for  me,"  said  Be,  "I  have  no  use  for  the  words 
of  which  you  speak.  They  are  not  for  us.  They  are 
for  the  white  people.  I  believe  that  trouble  will  come 
upon  those  black  people  who  follow  these  new  things. 
And  even  if  great  black  chiefs  agree  to  these  new 
things  and  follow  the  white  man's  God — where  will  I 
end  if  I  go  on  that  path?  Do  the  men  who  follow  the 
new  things  make  medicine  for  the  hunt?  Do  they 
know  a  charm  to  protect  those  who  climb  trees  and  the 
steep  cliffs?  There  is  no  profit  for  me  or  for  my  peo- 
ple in  the  new  way.  I  myself,  before  the  last  rainy  sea- 
son, I  went  to  see  the  white  man  who  is  the  man  of 
God  and  I  begged  him  for  dried  fish — No!  I  begged 
him  for  rum — No!  I  begged  him  for  a  leaf  of  white 
man's  tobacco  as  big  as  an  eye  lash — No!  I  said  'I 
have  a  child  at  home  that  is  a  girl  child — give  me  a 
little  piece  of  cloth  that  I  may  tie  it  about  her  head.* — 
No! 

"Then  I  said  to  that  white  man, — *I,  the  headman 
Be,  have  now  come  to  your,  village  for  the  first  time — 
and  am  I  to  leave  without  a  present  ?  Nothing  to  carry 
away  in  my  hand?'  And  the  white  man  said,  'This  is 
not  a  town  where  presents  are  made.  This  is  a  town 
where  there  are  teachers  and  teaching  of  the  Word  of 
God — He  who  created  you.  The  old  law  of  God  is 
known  in  this  town  and  here  your  children  may  come 
and  learn  wisdom.  Here  your  sick  may  come  and  be 
healed.    But  if  you  come  to  salute  me  ten  tens  of  times/ 


AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  DWARFS  79 

said  that  white  man,  'and  beg  me  with  as  many  beg- 
gings as  there  are  stars  above  for  the  goods  of  the 
white  man  and  the  riches  of  men,  I  will  never  give  you 
of  these  as  much  as  an  eyelash.* " 

"  'If  that  is  so,*  I  told  that  white  man,  *I  am  going.* 
And  I  went.  And  I  have  never  desired  the  new  things 
of  which  I  heard  that  day.  I  do  not  desire  them  now. 
I  desire  all  the  things  that  the  men  of  your  father's 
tribe  carry  up  from  the  beach  on  their  backs, — ^the  good 
things  of  the  white  man,  rum,  and  cloth,  and  beads, 
and  iron  pots  that  are  not  quickly  broken  as  clay  pots 
are.  I  beg  of  you,  open  your  loads  and  we  will  bargain 
for  the  goods.  Then  you  may  go  with  loads  of  dried 
meat  and  honey  and  nuts.'* 

"There  is  no  trade  goods  in  my  loads,"  said  Obam. 
"I  come  on  another  palaver.  Every  morning  at  dawn, 
and  every  evening  when  the  stars  are  created,  I  will 
teach  you  of  the  things  of  God.  These  words  that  you 
hate  before  you  have  heard  them — perhaps  you  will 
love  when  you  have  heard  them.  All  this  moon  and 
the  next  moon  I  will  open  to  you  this  wisdom.'* 

"We  are  not  sitting  down  in  one  place,  as  your  fa- 
ther does,"  said  Be.  "We  people  who  are  dwarfs  must 
do  the  forest  work,  we  must  go  on  the  many  little 
paths  hunting  and  fishing  and  nutting.  So  it  cannot  be 
that  you  will  visit  us  for  two  moons.  We  rise  and  go 
away  from  this  place  tomorrow." 

"Where  you  go,  I  too,  I  will  go,"  said  Obam. 

"And  sleep  where  we  sleep?" 

"As  you  say." 

"And  eat  what  we  eat?" 

"Certainly." 

"Since  I  was  born!"  cried  out  Be,  "I  never  saw  a 


80  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

son  of  your  father's  tribe  that  would  endure  these 
things.  What  new  customs  people  begin  to  have!" 
And  he  slapped  his  thigh  and  laughed.  All  the  little 
dwarf  people  laughed.  They  all  laughed  at  the  fool- 
ishness of  the  four  Bulu  boys  who  sat  in  their  little 
palaver  house  looking  very  grave  and  dignified. 

That  night  was  a  night  of  full  moon.  There  was  a 
great  sound  of  drumming  in  the  little  clearing,  with 
the  palms  of  their  hands  the  drummers  beat  the  skin 
that  was  stretched  on  the  heads  of  the  upright  drums. 
In  the  silver  moonlight,  the  dark  little  bodies  capered 
to  the  sound  of  that  drumming. 

When  Obam  lit  his  lantern  that  light  was  a  golden 
light.  He  drummed  upon  the  call  drum  a  little  call  to 
assemble.  Then  he  sat  upon  the  call  drum.  The  four 
Bulu  boys  sitting  together  by  the  golden  light  of  the 
lantern  began  to  sing.  One  by  one  the  dwarfs  drew 
away  from  the  dance — they  gathered  to  the  sound  of 
that  singing — even  the  drummers  at  last  came  near. 
The  singing  was  about  the  love  of  God.  Presently 
among  all  those  people  who  sat  in  a  dark  group  upon 
the  ground,  Obam  rose  to  tell  them  of  the  remember- 
ing with  which  ^Zambe  had  remembered  them. 

"All  these  generations  of  men  who  said  *He-who- 
created-us'  has  forgotten  us — they  were  all  mistaken. 
'He-who-created'  remembered — so  much  He  remem- 
bered that  He  made  a  visit.  That  visit  was  in  the  body 
of  the  son  of  'Him-who-created.'  That  son  was  the 
Lord  Jesus.  And  He  is  the  chief  of  the  new  tribe  that 
is  being  created  by  Zambe — 'He-who-created'  all 
tribes.  Jesus  is  the  headman.  He  shows  those  who 
follow  Him  the  custom  of  the  new  tribe — that  is  a 


*  Bulu  name  for  the  Creator. 


AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  DWARFS  81 

different  custom  from  the  old  custom  of  the  black 
people,  and  the  law  of  this  custom  is  ten  words  of 
law.    He  alone  knows  the  path  beyond  death. 

"Many  things  of  all  this  news  I  will  tell  you  on  the 
nights  of  these  two  moons,"  said  Obam.  "But  now 
we  who  have  traveled  today, — we  will  go  to  bed." 

The  dwarfs  laughed  as  they  listened  to  Obam  and 
his  news — a  laughter  of  surprise  and  of  amusement. 
They  laughed  and  talked  together  as  they  moved  away 
in  the  moonlight.  Soon  the  drums  throbbed  again  and 
the  dancers  leaped  above  their  black  shadows. 

The  four  Bulu  boys  lay  beside  the  fire  in  the  palaver 
house  that  was  no  more  than  a  little  leafy  roof.  Those 
dwarf  beds  were  too  small  for  the  Bulu  boys,  they 
twisted  and  turned  and  stuck  their  legs  out  into  space. 
All  four  were  a  little  homesick. 

Mejo  said  to  his  brother, — 

"Ah,  Assam,  if  they  laugh  at  us  in  the  town  where 
we  are  going — how  I  shall  feel  shame  in  my  heart. 
How  can  we  bear  it  if  they  laugh  at  us  !'* 

"How  did  Obam  bear  it?**  said  Assam.  "God  gives 
the  strength  to  bear  it.  What  is  your  nsune  tonight? 
You  who  run  from  laughter!" 

The  next  morning  Assam  and  Mejo  went  away  on 
their  own  path.  Sleeping  in  the  villages  by  the  way 
they  made  four  days'  journey  without  accident.  On  the 
fifth  day  they  were  detained  by  a  headman  who  asked 
many  questions  about  the  things  of  God.  That  is  why 
the  boys  came  late  to  the  crossing  of  the  So  river. 

When  they  came  out  of  the  forest  to  the  broad  water 
the  last  red  was  in  the  sky.  There  was  no  village  on 
the  west  side  of  the  river,  and  on  the  east  side  the  vil- 
lage was  set  back  from  the  bank.     The    canoes    of 


82  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

the  village  were  grouped  against  the  side  of  that  further 
bank.  The  sound  of  drumming  came  across  the  water 
—all  the  cries  of  Assam  and  Mejo  were  lost  in  the 
drumming.  They  shouted  themselves  hoarse,  before 
Assam  said, — 

"Those  people  will  dance  all  night.  We  must  just 
sleep  where  we  are."  And  he  set  about  gathering 
wood  for  a  night  fire. 

Never  before  in  his  life  had  Mejo  slept  like  this  with- 
out arms  and  without  shelter.  Always  when  he  had 
camped  in  the  forest  there  were  "real  men"  of  the  tribe 
with  bows  and  arrows  and  spears;  then  he  had  slept 
in  a  great  trust  of  his  father  and  his  father's  friends. 
Now  he  watched  his  brother  in  the  growing  dusk  with 
a  fear  that  he  was  ashamed  to  speak.  Assam  laid  his 
fire  by  the  water's  edge  where  there  was  a  little  sandy 
clearing.  He  filled  his  little  iron  pot  with  the  river 
water  and  set  it  on  the  glowing  heart  of  his  fire.  He 
put  a  great  snail  into  the  pot. 

"It  is  good  that  we  found  a  snail  this  morning,"  said 
he.    "You  have  the  salt — put  in  a  pinch." 

He  took  a  corn  loaf  out  of  his  pack.  Upon  some 
leaves  that  Mejo  had  spread  out  like  a  mat,  the  boys 
sat  down.  They  heard  the  rushing  of  the  great  river 
and  they  felt  a  loneliness  come  into  their  hearts. 

"So  much  water  is  too  much  water,"  said  Mejo, 
rather  anxiously. 

Then  the  pot  began  to  boil — that  sound  was  a  sound 
of  home.  The  night  darkened  about  them  but  their 
fire  sent  up  ruddy  flames.  Above  them  the  stars  were 
thick  as  rain ;  and  the  thoughts  of  these  two  boys  called 
upon  God,  the  Maker  of  stars,  to  protect  them.  Old 
fears  of  spirits  who  walk  at  night  to  do  mischief  to 


AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  DWARFS  83 

men,  were  stirring  in  their  hearts,  but  they  quieted 
these  old  fears  with  the  new  hopes  and  the  new  prom- 
ises. They  feared  the  beasts  of  the  forest,  but  their 
fire  should  frighten  these. 

They  ate  their  supper  and  lay  down  upon  the  bed  of 
leaves.  When  the  late  moon  rose,  Assam  and  Mejo 
were  sleeping  beside  a  fire  and  a  thread  of  smoke.  And 
when  the  guinea  fowl  called  before  the  dawn  they  woke 
—as  travellers  must  awake  when  the  guinea  calls — as 
safe  and  sound  as  any  other  sons  of  their  father's  house. 

"That  was  a  good  night,"  said  Assam.  He  began  to 
call  for  a  ferryman,  and  when  the  first  light  of  day  was 
gray  upon  the  water,  there  came  a  man  with  a  canoe 
to  ferry  them  across. 

That  day  when  the  sun  was  in  the  middle,  the  boys 
knew  that  they  were  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mekok. 
In  a  town  where  they  rested  they  were  told, — "You  will 
cross  but  two  streams  and  beyond  the  second  stream 
you  will  find  the  gardens  of  Mekok.  The  women  of 
Mekok  will  then  be  upon  the  path  returning  from  their 
gardens  to  the  village."  And  this  was  true.  The 
women  of  Mekok  were  indeed  upon  the  path.  They 
cried  out  when  they  saw  the  school  boys  with  their  load 
of  slates. 

"They  have  come — Akeva !  The  teachers  have  come. 
Now  we  believe  the  word  of  Asala!" 

Back  in  the  gardens  other  women  heard  the  news. 
Mejo  heard  the  glad  shout  of  his  little  sister  as  she 
ran  through  the  thick  screen  of  the  cassava  plants. 
Presently  that  little  brown  body  sprang  into  the  path 
and  embraced  the  brothers.  Such  laughter!  Such 
shouting !  Such  clamor  for  news  of  home !  Asala  ran 
before  them  into  the  village.    She  dared  to  go  into  the 


84  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

palaver  house,  though  her  husband  had  not  sent  for 
her.  Out  of  breath  she  told  him  that  the  teachers  had 
come  and  that  they  were  her  brothers. 

Now  the  headman  saw  the  boys  enter  the  clear- 
ing from  the  forest.  They  wore  singlets  and  loin 
cloths.  They  leaned  a  little  forward  under  their  loads. 
The  smallest  carried  a  lantern.  They  walked  with  the 
plodding  gait  of  travelers  who  have  walked  for  many 
days. 

"Those  boys  are  tired,"  said  Efa,  "it  would  be  well 
that  you  cook  them  good  food.  Ask  your  ^ntyi  to  kill 
a  chicken  for  those  boys;  and  you  yourself  make  the 
mango  nut  gravy  for  that  chicken." 

Thus  were  Assam  and  Mejo  kindly  welcomed  in  the 
town  of  Efa  Nlem.  Asala  ran  to  cook  for  them.  Efa 
received  them  in  the  palaver  house.  They  laid  aside 
their  loads  and  sat  at  ease  under  the  brown  roof.  The 
villagers  gathered  to  look  at  the  teachers,  little  naked 
boys  clustered  in  little  groups  and  murmured  their  lit- 
tle comments  to  each  other.  But  there  was  no  great 
conversation  as  yet  between  Efa  and  his  guests.  There 
would  be  time  for  that.    Only  Efa  said, — 

"I  hope  that  you  have  brought  white  man's  medi- 
cine." 

And  Assam  said,  "Yes" — ^he  had  skin  medicine  and 
medicine  for  the  heat  in  the  body  and  medicine  for 
ulcers. 

"That  is  good,"  said  Efa.  "With  what  they  have  my 
people  will  buy  those  medicines."  And  he  began  to 
smoke  his  long  pipe  in  silence. 

Mejo  looked  at  Efa  when  Efa  was  not  looking  at 
him.  "I  like  him,"  he  thought ;  "but  I  fear  him  too,  and 


*  A   senior  vnte  into  whow  care  a  little  girl  wife  ia  given,  and  with  whom 
she  wUl  remain   until  she  is  marriageable. 


THE  MANGO  TREE  IN  THE  VILLAGE 


THE  DEAD  LEOPARD 


AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  DWARFS  85 

that  is  good."  Mejo  looked  about  at  the  little  groups 
of  boys  and  at  the  women  who  were  looking  at  him. 
Three  or  four  real  men  were  sitting  by  the  ashes  of  the 
fires.  Mejo  was  embarrassed  to  look  at  them.  But  in 
his  heart  he  felt  important.  It  was  fine  to  have  so 
many  people  concerned  about  him  and  about  Assam. 
He  remembered  his  father's  story  of  Ngutu  and  of  how 
Ngutu  first  came  to  Abiete.  "I  too,"  thought  Mejo, 
"am  a  teacher  of  the  new  things." 

And  suddenly  he  said,  "I  am  thirsty!" 

Immediately  two  little  girls  rose  and  went  out  into 
the  sunlight — their  little  grass  bustles  beating  about 
their  brown  legs.  From  a  nearby  hut  they  returned 
with  gourds  of  water.  One  presented  her  gourd  to 
Assam,  the  other  drew  a  corncob  stopper  from  the  neck 
of  her  gourd  and  presented  it  to  Mejo. 

As  Mejo  raised  the  gourd  to  his  lips  he  met  the  eyes 
of  a  boy  in  the  shadow  of  a  corner.  This  boy  was  al- 
most a  man,  his  hair  was  finely  dressed  and  studded 
with  blue  beads.  He  wore  a  splendid  loin  cloth. 
About  his  arms  were  many  ivory  bracelets  and  about 
his  neck  hung  a  great  amulet. 

"That  young  fellow  has  such  style,"  thought  Mejo, 
"that  he  must  be  the  headman's  son.  But  he  looked  at 
us  without  the  friendly  eye." 

Now  Efa  told  them  that  they  might  go  with  Asala. 

"You  are  weary  and  you  should  rest,"  he  said.  "Asa- 
la's  ntyi  is  named  Bilo'o.  Lie  upon  the  bed  in  her 
house  until  the  time  of  the  setting  of  the  sun.  Then 
return  to  speak  with  me  of  the  many  things  of  school." 

In  the  house  of  Bilo*o  there  was  happy  talk  of  home. 
There  were  portions  of  good  food  laid  out  upon  green 
leaves  by  willing  little  brown  hands.    About  the  doors 


86  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

of  Bilo'o's  hut  clustered  the  persistent  bodies  of  little 
boys  who  murmured  together.  Back  of  these  little 
boys  were  older  boys,  silently  looking  at  their  teach- 
ers,— those  young  benefactors  who  had  come  to  open 
up  the  new  paths  to  the  feet  of  their  tribe.  Women 
entered  the  hut  quietly  by  the  back  door.  They  were 
the  women  who  were  a  long  time  wishing  to  hear  the 
Word  of  God ;  they  brought  little  presents  of  food. 

Presently  Assam  said  to  Mejo — very  low — 

"Don't  be  proud!" 

And  Mejo  said  softly — "I  hear!  I  will  keep  pride 
down.  Did  you  see  the  young  man  who  does  not  like 
us?" 

"He  that  sat  in  the  shadow?  I  saw  him.  Even  so, 
we  must  try  to  draw  him  to  us." 

That  night  Efa  and  Assam  spoke  long  together  of 
the  things  of  school. 

"That  big  new  house  at  the  end  of  the  clearing  is 
your  school  house.  My  people  have  been  a  long  time 
building  it.  All  the  boys  of  the  neighborhood  have 
helped.  Asala  told  us  how  we  must  cut  logs  of  the 
*mesung  tree  for  seats.  There  are  rows  of  seats  in  the 
school  house.  The  walls  are  very  low  as  Asala  said 
they  should  be.  And  for  yourself  we  have  built  a  house 
too.  It  is  a  good  little  house,  all  new,  and  near  the 
school  house.  There  are  two  beds  in  that  house. 
There  is  a  window  in  that  house  like  a  white  man's 
window.  A  woman  has  made  a  fire  between  the  two 
beds  and  now,  if  it  pleases  you,  you  may  go  to  your 
house.  Ah,  Bekalli!"  said  Efa,  and  a  boy  rose  in  an- 
swer.   "Take  your  teacher  to  his  new  house." 

At  this  word  the  youth  with  the  unfriendly  eyes  rose 
from  his  place. 

^TTie  nmbrella  tree. 


AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  DWARFS  87 

"Ah,  father,"  said  he,  "I  have  a  word  to  say !" 

"Say  it!"  said  Efa.  Everyone  looked  at  the  young 
man.  The  firelight  shone  upon  his  bright  beads,  his 
ivory  bracelets,  and  his  body  rubbed  with  oil.  In  his 
dark  face  his  eyes  and  his  teeth  were  bright. 

"Since  I  was  bom,"  said  he,  "did  you  ever  build  me 
a  house?  What  day  did  you  ever  say  to  me  as  you 
now  say  to  this  stranger, — *Go  sleep  in  the  new  house 
I  have  built  you !'    This  is  a  question  I  ask  you !" 

Efa  looked  in  surprise  at  his  son. 

"Ah,  Bekalli,"  said  he,  "I  hear  with  astonishment 
this  word  of  reproach.  Are  not  all  the  houses  in  my 
village  your  houses?  All  my  houses  are  your  houses. 
Why  should  you  grieve  because  I  show  a  kindness  to 
these  young  men  who  have  come  to  do  us  the  work  of 
teaching?    What  shall  I  say  further?" 

"This  you  may  further  say,"  shouted  Bekalli  trem- 
bling,— ^"You  may  say  that  you  give  me  the  new  house 
— I  who  am  your  eldest  son.  Let  the  sons  of  strangers 
sleep  in  the  house  that  is  outside  the  village." 

"But  it  leaks,"  said  Efa  mildly. 

"Then  let  the  strangers  patch  the  roof  with  leaves. 
Doubtless  all  the  roofs  of  their  father's  town  are 
patched  with  leaves.  Let  them  cut  the  grass  that 
grows  about  that  house.  And,  if  they  fear  the  evil 
spirits  that  come  about  that  house  at  night,  let  their 
new  God  protect  them ;  give  me  the  new  house !" 

Efa  looked  in  silence  at  his  son,  who  continued  to 
tremble,  standing  up  very  straight  in  the  firelight. 
Then  he  said, 

"There  is  a  headman  in  this  town  and  I  am  that  head- 
man. Our  guests  will  sleep  in  the  house  I  have  built 
for  them.    And  tomorrow  we  will  begin  to  cut  bark 


88  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

for  the  walls  of  a  house  I  will  build  you,  and  to  gather 
leaves  for  the  thatch." 

"If  you  build  me  ten  houses,"  said  Bekalli,  "I  will 
never  sleep  in  one  of  them!"  And  he  put  his  leg  over 
the  high  sill  of  the  door  and  went  off  into  the  dark. 

SOUE  EZPLAI7ATI0KS  OF  CHAPTER  17. 

The  Dwarfs  or  Pygmies  are  a  race  of  African  people 
smaller  than  the  men  of  other  known  races.  Their  average 
height  is  four  feet  seven.  They  are  dwellers  in  the  forest — 
hunters  and  wanderers.  They  do  not  build  towns  as  other 
African  tribes  do,  nor  plant  gardens.  They  often  attach 
themselves  to  superior  tribes  and  wander  about  in  their 
neighborhood.  They  are  very  shy  and  timid.  The  great 
African  explorer,  Paul  Du  Chaillu  has  written  about  his  en- 
coimters  with  them ;  Stanley  and  other  white  men  have  written 
about  them.  I  have  visited  the  clearing  where  the  little  dwarf 
headman  Be  had  built  some  leafy  shelters.  He  himself 
showed  me  the  trail  to  that  clearing.  It  was  as  I  tell  you  in 
this  story. 

This  little  sermon  that  Obam  preached  to  the  dwarfs  is 
just  a  common  beg^inning  sermon.  The  boys  who  go  into  the 
villages  to  speak  to  the  people  about  the  things  of  God  speak 
to  the  more  ignof ant  ones  in  this  way. 


CHAPTER  V. 
ADVENTURES  OF  ASSAM  AND  MEJO 

OW  began  for  the  two  brothers  a  time  of 
great  bus3mess;  there  were  all  the  things 
o£  school  to  be  made  ready. 

Little  lads  with  brooms  of  leaves  swept 
out  the  school  house  with  its  rows  and  rows  of  log 
seats.  As  they  scrambled  about  under  Mejo's  leader- 
ship they  made  their  little  silly  comments  upon  the 
things  of  learning. 

"Now  we  shall  know  all  the  things  of  the  white  man," 
they  told  one  another.  "And  about  the  tribe  that  lives 
down  in  the  earth  we  shall  know.  And  about  the  many 
moons  that  are  made  and  that  are  lost  again;  and 
about  a  country  that  is  not  a  forest  country;  and 
about  the  thing  that  is  a  clock.  The  teacher  has  that 
thing  and  it  shows  a  sign  to  him  about  the  time  of  day 
— as  if  it  were  the  sun." 

And  all  the  little  sweepers  paused  to  look  at  Assam's 
clock  where  it  ticked  on  a  little  rough  table  at  the  end 
of  the  school  room. 

"Get  busy!"  said  Mejo  sternly,  and  once  more  was 
heard  the  rustle  of  their  brushy  brooms. 

Assam  hung  his  alphabetical  charts  about  the  room. 
All  his  little  adventurers  would  begin  their  adventures 
upon  these  charts.  And  they  all  yearned  to  be  off; 
they  dropped  their  brooms  to  stand  before  those  white 
banners,  tattooed  with  mystic  figures.  Daring  little 
brown  fingers  ventured  here  and  there  in  that  strange 
country  until  Mejo  forbade  them;  the  older  boys  of 


90  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

the  village — like  copy-cats— cried  out  the  same  pro- 
hibition. Others  hung  about  the  slates.  One  unhappy 
little  boy  dropped  a  slate  and  was  carried  shrieking  to 
Assam.  He  howled  and  he  trembled,  rolling  horror- 
struck  eyes. 

"The  writing  stone  is  broken,"  said  the  bigger  boys 
who  had  captured  him,  and  the  captive  writhed  in 
their  hands. 

The  slate  was  not  broken,  but  an  awe  of  slates  fell 
upon  the  little  sweepers.  " 

The  next  morning  in  the  many  villages  of  that  neigh- 
borhood was  heard  the  first  drumming  of  the  school 
drum, — 

"The  promise  that  we  made  yesterday  we  keep  today! 
"The  promise  that  we  made  yesterday  we  keep  today!" 

The  villagers,  listening  to  the  clamor  of  that  phrase 
beaten  out  on  the  drum  of  Efa  Nlem's  town,  knew  that 
school  was  calling.  Everywhere  in  the  huts  little  boys 
bustled  about,  worrying  their  mothers  for  a  bite  to  eat 
before  they  went  to  school,  for  a  hen  to  pay  the 
school  tuition,  for  a  bottle  of  palm  oil,  for  a  basket  of 
peanuts, — for  anything  with  which  to  pay  for  school. 

Bigger  lads  at  the  sound  of  that  drumming  were 
about  the  same  business.  They  took  ivory  bracelets 
off  their  own  arms,  leopards'  teeth  off  their  own  necks. 
They  twisted  the  long  vine  that  is  the  bush  rope 
into  marketable  coils,  they  looked  long  at  knives 
which  they  would  never  carry  again,  but  must  pay  to 
go  to  school.  Sad  partings  took  place  that  day  be- 
tween boys  and  their  possessions. 

In  the  palaver  houses  of  these  villages  the  youth  of 
the  tribe  went  to  inquire  of  age.  Every  boy  must  re- 
ceive of  his  father  permission  to  do  this  new  thing. 


ADVENTURES  OF  ASSAM  AND  MEJO  91 

Some  fathers  said,  "It  is  well,  go  in  peace  and,  with 
what  you  learn,  return  to  strengthen  the  tribe." 

Some  fathers  said,  "Why  do  you  ask  me?  Your 
heart  is  set  on  it ;  don't  bother  me." 

Some  fathers  raged  and  called  to  mind  the  old  wis- 
dom of  the  tribe,  the  old  custom,  the  things  of  magic 
— all  these  good  old  ways  that  would  now  be  forgotten 
because  all  the  fine  young  lads  were  turning  away  to 
foolishness. 

But  all  these  fathers  of  their  different  sorts — all  these 
fathers  felt  deserted  and  lonely  when  they  saw  the  lit- 
tle companies  of  brown  bodies,  laughing  and  chatter- 
ing, go  away  out  of  the  village  to  school ! 

"No  man  knows  where  this  will  end,"  they  said  in 
their  hearts. 

Sometimes  that  morning  when  the  school  drum  was 
calling,  a  little  girl  stole  into  the  palaver  house  to  beg 
of  her  father.  Some  little  girls  never  found  courage 
to  open  their  mouths,  they  stood  about  idly  until  they 
were  called  by  the  women  who  were  going  to  the  gar- 
dens; then  they  went  slowly  away.  And  all  that  day 
the  elder  women  scolded  them  or  laughed  at  them, 
saying : 

"Today  you  walk  like  a  worm  without  eyes." 

"You  are  as  slow  today  as  a  chameleon." 

Some  little  girls  said  what  they  wanted, — 

"I  want  to  go  to  school!" 

"I  envy  those  who  go  to  school." 

"Ah,  Father,  me  too — ^permit  me  too !" 

"School!  What  next?  Shall  I  bring  a  curse  on  my 
town  by  sending  women  to  school !  Who  would  marry 
youthen?    Get  along!" 

In  the  school  house  Assam  was  writing  the  names 


92  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

of  the  boys  who  were  paying  their  tuition  to  Mejo. 
The  pupils  stood  in  Hne ;  one  at  a  time  they  put  down 
their  treasure  of  payment ;  they  murmured  their  names 
— ^watching  with  awe  the  hand  of  Assam  traveling  over 
paper  and  leaving  a  trail  of  marks.  Some  were  so 
taken  out  of  themselves  that  they  could  not  speak  their 
names;  they  panted  for  their  turns  to  come  and  when 
at  last  they  stood  before  the  teacher,  with  his  magic 
hand,  they  fixed  him  with  vacant  eyes  and  were  dumb. 

Some  coming  to  their  turn  had  no  tuition;  these 
were  cast  out  weeping — to  return  again  tomorrow,  as 
Assam  knew  very  well  they  would — with  the  offering. 

Once  the  voice  that  answered  Assam  was  a  girl's 
voice,  and  he  looked  up  into  an  eager  girl's  face. 

"My  name  is  Adda." 

"Does  your  father  permit  you  to  come  to  school?" 

"My  father  does  not  know.    I  ran  away." 

"It  is  forbidden  that  a  girl  should  come  to  school 
without  her  owner's  permission.  To  receive  girls  who 
have  run  away  would  be  to  hunt  trouble  in  the  school." 

"We  told  her!"  cried  the  boys  in  a  line.  "And  we 
said,  who  wants  girls  in  school?  They  are  as  stupid 
as  hens !" 

"Be  still,"  said  Assam.  "If  you  ask, — ^who  wants  the 
girls  in  school?  I  will  tell  you  that  the  teacher  wants 
them.  Go  in  peace,"  he  said  to  Adda.  "It  may  be  that 
God  will  change  your  father's  heart  and  then  you  may 
return." 

She  went  away  crying. 

Another  girl's  voice  spoke,  and  this  v^as  Asala. 

"He  says  I  may,"  whispered  Asala,  over  the  edge 
of  the  table.    "I  am  to  go  to  school,  Efa  permits  me." 

Her  eyes  were  brilliant  in  her  little,  soft,  brown  face 


ADVENTURES  OF  ASSAM  AND  MEJO  93 

that  was  not  tattooed.  She  laid  her  tuition  before  her 
brother  Mejo, — it  was  a  fishing  net.  Such  pride  was 
in  her  heart  that  she  could  not  conceal  it. 

"She  will  be  too  proud,"  said  a  boy  in  line,  and 
others  said  so.  But  the  teacher  frowned,  and  again  it 
was  still  while  the  name  of  Asala  was  written  on  the 
school  roll. 

At  the  end  of  ten  days  there  were  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  pupils  in  school.  There  were  groups  of 
ardent  adventurers  before  all  the  primary  charts.  Lit- 
tle boys  and  big  boys  labored  over  slates,  sticking  out 
their  tongues ;  and  when  the  slates  ran  short  there  were 
classes  making  marks  upon  the  sand  outside  the  school 
house.  Mejo,  standing  before  his  classes  and  Assam 
before  his,  struck  the  charts  with  pointers,  and  there 
was  a  murmur  of  response, 

"B— a=ba" 

"B— o=bo." 

"These  were  the  little  murmurs  that  broke  the  hot 
silence  in  that  little  bark  shelter.  At  the  opening  pe- 
riod and  the  closing  all  those  yoimg  voices  sang  the  new 
songs  that  they  were  so  quick  to  learn.  With  a  curious 
obedience  they  were  all  day  obedient  to  their  young 
teachers.  They  who  had  run  so  wild  so  long  now  rose 
on  signal  and  were  seated  on  signal.  On  signal  they 
spoke  or  were  silent.  They  curbed  their  voices  and 
their  bodies  to  a  new  custom,  and  behind  their  tattoo 
their  faces  looked  out  with  a  common  expression  of 
discipline. 

Among  the  pupils,  many  were  as  old  as  Bekalli,  Efa*s 
eldest  son.  But  Bekalli  never  came  to  school.  Some- 
times he  stood  on  the  outside  of  the  low  wall,  looking 
in  and  smiling.    Sometimes,  when  the  real  men  of  the 


94  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

village  passed  the  school  house  on  the  way  to  hunt, 
Bekalli  stopped  at  the  open  door — leaning  on  his  bow- 
gun,  or  signalling  to  the  older  boys.  He  never  saluted 
the  teacher  as  the  real  men  did. 

Once  on  a  bright  moonlight  night  when  Assam  lay 
with  Mejo  in  bed,  they  heard  a  murmur  in  the  school 
house.  Assam,  creeping  close  to  trap  the  intruder,  saw 
over  the  wall  the  head  of  Bekalli.  He  stood  before  a 
chart  that  was  very  white  in  the  moonlight.  With  his 
dark  finger  he  traveled  from  letter  to  letter  and  to  him- 
self he  murmured  their  names. 

"He  is  saying  the  names  of  letters,"  Assam  whis- 
pered to  Mejo  when  he  went  back  to  bed,  "but  he  is 
mistaking  them  !'* 

All  the  first  months  of  school  there  was  a  great  con- 
tentment in  the  town  of  Mekok.  Assam,  speaking  the 
Word  of  God  at  the  morning  and  the  evening  prayers, 
saw  more  and  more  brown  bodies  gather  about  him  in 
the  early  and  the  late  dusk.  Women  who  had  begged 
the  Word  of  God  from  Asala's  little  store  now  received 
a  daily  portion  from  Assam,  and  went  away  to  their 
gardens  murmuring  over  and  over  the  verse  of  the 
morning  and  the  evening  lesson.  On  a  Sunday  when 
Assam  beat  the  call  to  the  service,  many  real  men  came 
to  hear  for  themselves  these  new  things  that  were  ru- 
mored everywhere.  Of  an  evening  when  Assam  sat 
in  his  little  house,  one  and  another  would  come  to  ask 
him  privately  of  these  things — as  Nicodemus  came  to 
Christ  of  old. 

To  the  house  of  the  two  brothers  there  came  the  sick 
who  desired  to  try  the  white  man's  medicine.  Little 
gaunt  children  devoured  by  itch  were  healed,  poor 
bodies  fading  away  with  malaria  were  restored.    The 


ADVENTURES  OF  ASSAM  AND  MEJO  95 

simple  drugs  for  simple  ills  were  dispensed  by  the  boys, 
who  put  away  the  goods  received  for  medicine  with 
the  goods  received  for  tuition,  until  all  this  treasure 
should  be  carried  back  to  the  mission  at  the  close  of 
school. 

These  were  good  days.  There  could  be  no  enemy, 
you  would  have  said,  in  the  town  of  Mekok.  Until  the 
night  Efa  Nlem  fell  ill, — then  trouble  came  as  thick  as 
rain.  Assam  woke  to  find  a  woman  shouting  at  his 
door. 

"Rise,"  she  cried,  "and  make  medicine  for  the  head- 
man— he  is  dying!"  and  she  rushed  away. 

By  the  light  of  his  lantern,  Assam  found  the  town 
gathered  in  the  palaver  house.  Efa  lay  upon  his  bed, 
leaning  against  the  shoulder  of  Bilo'o;  his  breath  was 
short  and  his  body  burned  under  Assam's  hand.  But 
he  was  not  unconscious.  He  begged  Assam  to  give 
him  the  white  man's  medicine. 

"Ah,  my  son,"  he  said  to  Assam,  "I  am  dying!" 

Assam  gave  him  quinine.  But  when  two  days 
passed  and  the  heat  did  not  pass  from  Efa's  body,  As- 
sam told  Mejo  that  he  did  not  know  what  to  do.  This 
illness  did  not  look  like  the  old  sickness  of  the  heat  in 
the  body  that  the  white  man  calls  malaria. 

On  the  second  day  the  great  medicine  man  from  Me- 
dong  came  to  heal  Efa.  His  healing  was  not  a  noisy 
healing  as  so  much  witch  doctoring  is  noisy.  This  fa- 
mous witch  doctor  made  a  little  booth  for  himself  of 
leaves,  and  his  communication  with  the  sick  man  was 
by  means  of  a  bush  rope  strung  like  a  cord  between  the 
leafy  booth  and  the  body  of  Efa  where  he  lay  in  the 
palaver  house. 

"This  is  a  new  kind  of  charm,"  said  Assam  to  Mejo, 
"I  think  he  learned  it  from  some  beach  people." 


96  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

The  medicine  man  would  talk  with  no  one  but  Be- 
kallL  Bekalli  alone  had  seen  his  face  during  the  time 
of  his  present  operations,  but  his  high  rough  shout  like 
the  bark  of  a  gorilla  awed  the  villagers  where  they 
sat  in  the  palaver  house.  There  they  sat  and  sighed, 
while  Efa  groaned,  and  the  cord  of  bush  rope  at- 
tached to  his  body  was  jerked  and  trembled. 

Assam  and  Mejo  felt  strange  now  in  the  village,  they 
felt  uneasy.  They  were  grieved  too,  for  Efa  had  been 
kind  to  them  and  Assam  feared  that  he  was  about  to 
die.  "If  he  dies,"  he  thought,  sitting  with  Mejo  in  his 
little  house,  "then  the  town's  people  may  trouble  us. 
They  may  say  that  we  gave  him  a  witch."  Mejo,  look- 
ing at  Assam's  face,  read  these  thoughts  there. 

At  this  moment  a  real  man  of  the  town  stood  at  the 
door. 

"You  are  simimoned,"  he  said,  and  he  went  away. 

This  was  bad.  The  two  boys  did  not  dare  hesitate, 
they  followed  him  immediately.  In  the  palaver  house 
they  were  fixed  by  every  eye,  only  Efa  did  not  gaze 
at  them.  He  lay  as  if  he  slept.  There  was  a  great  still- 
ness in  the  palaver  house  and  the  brothers,  standing 
beside  Efa's  bed,  were  still.  Mejo  felt  terribly  fright- 
ened; he  trembled,  and  Assam  put  his  warm  arm 
around  about  his  little  brother's  shoulders. 

Suddenly  Bekalli  rose  and  began  to  speak. 

"You  all  know  that  I  killed  a  leopard  ten  days  ago 
with  my  own  spear.  With  your  eyes  you  saw  the 
leopard  still  warm  upon  the  floor  of  this  palaver 
house.  Now  I  ask  you,— did  you  see  with  your  eyes 
the  leopard's  whiskers?" 

One  and  another  said,  yes,  they  had  seen  the  leop- 
ard's whiskers. 


ADVENTURES  OF  ASSAM  AND  MEJO  97 

"Even  so,"  said  Bekalli,  "when  I  began  to  skin  that 
leopard  there  were  no  whiskers — not  so  much  as  your 
eyelash !" 

A  great  silence  fell  upon  the  people  in  that  palaver 
house.  Me  jo  and  Assam  were  not  the  only  frightened 
creatures  there. 

Bekalli  continued :  "I  do  not  accuse  the  members  of 
my  father's  household,  nor  of  his  town,  nor  of  his 
neighborhood.  Why  should  they  hate  my  father  or 
hunt  a  way  to  hurt  him?  I  say,  it  is  these  strangers 
who  are  troubling  my  father." 

At  this  moment  the  bush  rope  on  the  floor  was  vio- 
lently agitated.  Every  eye  in  the  room  looked  with 
horror  at  that  cord. 

"Bekalli  continued: 

"These  strangers  have  brought  new  things  to  this 
town  that  are  not  the  things  of  black  men.  They  have 
brought  a  new  magic  to  this  town.  And  a  new  power. 
By  the  strange  magic  of  their  power  they  cast  a  spell 
upon  the  boys  in  school.  All  day  in  that  school  there 
is  a  great  silence  except  as  these  strangers  permit  the 
boys  to  speak!" 

A  curious  look  of  intelligence  dawned  upon  many 
faces  in  that  crowd. 

"But  that  magic,"  Bekalli  went  on,  "did  not  have 
power  over  real  men.  None  of  you  felt  that  power.  I 
did  not  feel  it.  My  father  continued  at  all  times  to 
speak  as  he  pleased.  For  this  reason,  because  the  new 
magic  had  no  power  over  my  father,  these  strangers 
struck  him  with  a  leopard's  whisker." 

Now  a  murmur  began  to  grow  in  that  company.  One 
took  counsel  with  another.  Bekalli  standing  in  the 
midst  said  no  more,  but  a  friend  of  his  brought  the 


98  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

bright  leopard's  skin  from  where  it  was  stretched  to 
dry  in  the  sun ;  it  was  spread  upon  the  clay  floor,  and 
its  absence  of  whiskers  was  noted.  The  clamor  of  com- 
ment grew,  and  Efa  groaned.  Every  one  was  then 
still;  but  at  the  sound  of  that  groan,  angry  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  teachers.  Mejo  felt  Assam's  hand  grip 
his  shoulder,  and  Assam  began  to  speak. 

Although  he  was  a  person  of  the  tribe  of  God,  he 
said,  he  was  not  ignorant  of  the  old  things  of  the  black 
man.  His  father  was  Akulu  Mejo — wise  in  every 
knowledge  of  magic.  Therefore  he  knew  that  the  next 
word  from  the  mouth  of  Bekalli  would  be  a  word  about 
the  trial  by  poison. 

At  this  Bekalli  sprang  to  speak.  But  Assam  con- 
tinued very  quietly  to  say  that  there  would  be  no  help 
for  him  nor  for  his  brother  if  they  were  tried  by  poison, 
and  fell,  and  were  killed  by  the  daggers  of  strangers  in 
this  town  of  strangers.  Many  innocent  men  had  fallen 
in  the  ordeal  by  poison,  and  so  might  he  fall  and  his 
little  brother.  But  what  hope  would  there  be  for  Efa 
in  their  death? 

"There  is  indeed  a  new  power  in  this  country,"  said 
Assam.  "It  is  the  power  of  the  people  of  the  tribe  of 
God  to  heal  disease.  It  is  not  a  magic,  it  is  a  knowl- 
edge— a  wisdom.  The  doctor  of  the  tribe  of  God  has 
that  knowledge.  At  the  missionary  town  there  is  such 
a  doctor.  He  is  not  a  witch  doctor — he  does  not  speak 
of  witches.  With  his  great  wisdom  he  hunts  the  sick- 
ness in  the  body  of  a  man,  and  he  makes  a  medicine 
to  cure  that  disease.  If  I  lie  here  dead  in  this  palaver 
house  and  my  brother  beside  me, — ^how  will  our  two 
deaths  heal  Efa — our  friend  and  the  father  of  this  vil- 
lage?   But  if  four  real  men  of  this  village  rise  up  and 


V 


ADVENTURES  OF  ASSAM  AND  MEJO  99 

bear  Efa  upon  the  path  that  I  can  show  them,  and  if  I 
lead  them  to  the  missionary  town,  and  if  we  there  beg 
the  Christian  doctor  to  heal  this  disease  which  has 
caught  Efa, — then  shall  the  living  praise  God!" 

From  the  bed  where  Efa  lay  he  suddenly  spoke,  and 
his  friends  were  astonished. 

"I  desire  to  follow  Assam  to  the  town  of  the  Chris- 
tian doctor.    Those  who  love  me  must  carry  me !" 

And  nothing  more  would  Efa  say  but  those  two 
words  in  his  feeble  voice, — 

"I  desire!    I  desire!" 

None  in  that  company  dared  oppose  him,  not  even 
his  angry  eldest  son.  The  real  men  of  the  neighbor- 
hood were  bound  to  obey  him.  They  had  respected 
Assam,  and  there  was  a  calm  and  a  courage  about  his 
manner  at  this  time  which  impressed  them.  It  was  de- 
termined to  carry  Efa  at  night  lest  the  heat  of  the  day 
overcome  him. 

That  very  night  in  a  hammock  made  of  Assam's 
blanket  tied  to  a  pole  and  borne  by  relays  of  two 
men,  Efa  went  away  upon  the  path  to  the  place  where 
the  sun  sets.    Assam  led  the  way  with  his  lantern. 

Bekalli  was  left  to  rule  the  town  and  Mejo  was  left 
to  keep  the  school. 

Mejo  stayed  because  his  brother  said  that  the  school 
must  not  "die." 

"It  is  our  work,  however  hard.  It  is  harder  for  you 
than  for  me,"  said  Assam.  "I  wish  I  could  take  you 
with  me,  but  you  see  how  God  has  made  a  path  for 
us  in  all  these  dangers,  and  we  must  believe  that  He 
will  care  for  you  even  when  you  are  alone.  Try  to  do 
all  the  big  works  and  let  the  little  works  go.  Take  the 
clever  boys  to  help  the  slow  ones.  You  know  if  I  will 
hurry  back." 


100  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

And  Assam  had  begun  to  hurry  already.  Before 
Mejo  could  say  any  of  the  fear  and  loneliness  of  his 
heart  Assam's  lantern  was  walking  away  beside 
Assam's  legs.  Soon  that  dear  light  was  lost  upon  the 
forest  path. 

Mejo  stood  at  the  door  of  his  house,  asking  his  heart 
how  he  could  sleep  alone  in  that  place.  If  even  he  had 
had  his  blanket  or  his  lantern!  And  while  he  was 
dreading  to  enter  that  little  hut,  where  he  would  miss 
his  brother  too  much,  Bekalli  came  through  the  dark. 
He  carried  a  torch.  His  mother  was  with  him  and 
had  a  load  of  his  belongings.  He  did  not  speak  to 
Mejo;  he  entered  the  teacher's  house  and  his  mother 
followed  him.  Presently  she  came  out  again.  She 
carried  the  torch,  the  school  clock  and  all  the  books. 

"Follow  me,"  she  said,  "by  order  of  Bekalli  I  show 
you  the  path  to  your  house.  He  says  he  will  send  you 
all  the  school  goods  tomorrow." 

Poor  Mejo  could  not  speak.  He  followed  that  wo- 
man to  a  lonely  cabin  that  was  a  little  way  outside  the 
village.  She  turned  to  leave  him  at  the  door  of  that 
hut  and  he  begged  her  for  the  torch. 

"There  is  no  fire  in  the  house,  I  beg  you  to  leave  the 
torch." 

"Then  show  me  the  path  back  to  my  own  house !" 

And  Mejo  showed  her  the  path  back  to  her  own  door 
by  the  torchlight.  He  was  hoping  that  some  of  the 
older  school  boys  would  see  him  going  away  by  him- 
self and  would  pity  him.  "Perhaps  some  two  will  come 
to  sleep  with  me  in  that  lonely  house,"  he  thought. 
But  none  did.  He  entered  his  new  house  alone.  By 
the  light  of  the  torch  he  saw  the  mushrooms  growing 
out  of  the  moldy  clay  floor  and  he  saw  the  gray  mold 


ADVENTURES  OF  ASSAM  AND  MEJO  101 

on  the  bamboo  beds.  He  smelt  the  odor  of  a  musty, 
unused  house. 

He  knew  that  he  must  work  quickly  for  his  torch 
was  burning  down.  There  was  no  fire  wood  in  the 
house,  but  there  was  a  rotten  drum  and  a  bit  of  log 
rough-hewn  to  a  stool.  He  would  make  a  fire  of  these. 
And  he  busied  himself. 

Moving  about  in  the  stillness  of  that  deserted  place, 
he  heard  the  dropping  of  heavy  dews  from  the  plantain 
leaves  back  of  the  house.  And  presently  he  heard  an- 
other sound  there — a  rustle  and  a  breathing.  His  heart 
stood  still.  The  back  door  of  the  little  hut  was  barred, 
while  the  front  door  was  open.  A  friend,  he  thought, 
would  come  to  the  front  door.  And  he  thought  of  the 
witch  doctor,  with  his  painted  face,  who  had  left  the 
town  in  anger.  The  rustling  crept  along  the  rear  wall 
of  the  house  and  breathed  against  the  door.  Mejo 
thought  of  spirits.  He  smelt  an  odor  of  wood  smoke 
through  the  cracks  in  the  bark,  and  he  thought  again 
of  the  witch  doctor.  Poor  little  Mejo  trembled,  stand- 
ing very  still.  Then  he  heard  a  soft  little  voice  and  it 
was  the  voice  of  Asala! 

"Ah,  Mejo,"  she  whispered  through  the  door,  "Let 
'me  in !  Bilo'o  and  I — ^we  are  here.  We  crept  secretly 
through  all  the  back  yards.  We  have  come  to  keep 
you  company!  But  first  shut  the  front  door,  so  that 
none  may  see  !'* 

Mejo  slid  the  bark  door  into  place  and  barred  it.  He 
was  laughing.  He  could  not  help  laughing  he  was  so 
glad.  Asala  came  in  with  Bilo'o.  Mejo  suddenly  loved 
his  little  sister  with  a  great  love  that  was  the  sum  of 
his  love  of  his  brother  and  his  father  and  his  mother 
and  the  village  at  home.    She  looked  at  him  with  her 


102  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

sweet  bright  eyes.  She  carried  a  kettle  hot  from  the 
fire.  Bilo'o  carried  firewood  still  warm  and  from  the 
smoking  ends  she  blew  a  flame.  Soon  the  kettle  was 
on  the  fire,  the  sound  of  its  boiling  made  a  sense  of 
home  about  the  two  children  and  the  childless  woman 
who  sat  about  the  fire.  Softly  they  began  to  speak 
together  in  a  great  peace  and  quiet. 

"Every  night  Bilo'o  and  I  will  come  to  you  like 
this,"  said  Asala.  "We  will  then  cook  your  food  for 
you.  None  shall  know,  and  when  the  food  is  eaten  and 
the  work  is  done,  you  will  teach  Bilo'o  from  the  word 
of  God.  Ah,  Mejo,"  said  Asala,  looking  at  her  brother 
with  little  lights  in  her  eyes,  "My  ntyi  Bilo'o  wishes 
to  become  a  member  of  the  tribe  of  God !" 


ADVENTURES  OF  ASSAM  AND  MEJO  103 

SOME  NOTES  FOR  CHAPTER  V. 

In  one  Africa  mission  at  the  beginning  of  the  European 
war  there  were  seven  station  schools  where  the  teachers  were 
under  the  supervision  and  instruction  of  white  men  and 
women ;  there  were  nearly  two  hxmdred  village  schools  taught 
by  black  teachers.  In  the  schools  of  this  mission  there  were 
over  seventeen  thousand  pupils.  Among  so  many  yoxmg 
teachers  there  were  some  who  were  thriftless  and  lazy,  In- 
competent, and  even  dishonest.  But  the  great  majority  were 
faithful  plodding  boys,  and  the  better  sort  were  of  the  type 
of  Assam.  I  assure  you  that  I  have  not  idealized,  in  Assam 
and  his  school,  the  best  type  of  school  and  the  best  type  of 
teacher.  Every  established  Africa  Mission  can  show  the 
equal  of  these.  Neither  have  I  exaggerated,  in  the  story  of 
Asala,  the  influence  of  a  little  Christian  girl  in  a  forest  com- ' 
munity.  Mejo  is  just  such  a  boy  as  is  common  in  our  school 
— many  a  boy  of  his  age  and  type  has  had  to  bear  heavy  re- 
sponsibilities. In  the  account  of  every  missionary's  expe- 
rience there  is  record  of  boys  and  of  girls  who  have  distin- 
guished themselves.  It  is  fine  to  read  in  the  life  of  Mackay 
of  Uganda  about  Sembera,  the  first  Christian  among  the 
Baganda.  It  is  sad  but  very  thrilling  to  read  of  those  young 
Baganda  boys,  who  were  martyred  for  their  faith  on  January 
30,  1882.  In  our  own  mission  we  must  always  remember  a 
young  lad  who  was  killed  by  black  soldiers  because  he  would 
not  deliver  to  them  the  mission  mail  bag.  Another  young 
lad  of  our  mission  kept  for  us  in  hiding  a  treasure  of  nearly 
one  thousand  dollars,  and  faithfully  returned  every  piece  of 
silver  money  when  the  danger  of  robbers  was  past.  Girls, 
too,  have  been  brave  and  faithful.  Read,  if  you  can,  about  the 
bravery  of  a  little  maid  servant,  on  page  125  of  the  book 
by  John  Mackenzie  called  Ten  Years  North  of  the  Orange 
River.  There  are  more  of  such  stories  than  I  can  mention, 
you  must  be  looking  for  them  yourselves. 

This  matter  of  trial  by  poison  is  a  common  way,  devised 
by  witch  doctors,  to  find  out  who  has  given  the  "witch"  to 
the  sick  person.  If  the  person  who  drinks  the  poison  gets 
dizzy  and  falls  down — then  he  is  guilty,  and  those  people  wh'* 
are  present  kill  him.    It  is  true  that  the  Bulu  people  attach  a 


104  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

g^reat  importance  to  the  killing  effects  of  a  prick  by  a  leop- 
ard's whisker.  Some  of  them  think  there  is  magic  in  such  an 
injury,  but  our  mission  doctors  begin  to  believe  that  wicked 
men  dip  the  whisker  in  a  poison  that  they  make,  and  with  the 
poisoned  whisker  prick  their  enemies. 


CHAPTER    VI. 
THE  RETURN  OF  THE  ADVENTURERS 

HESE  things  happened  in  the  time  of  the 
new  moon.  All  that  moon  and  when  that 
moon  was  lost  Mejo  did  the  work  of 
Assam  in  the  village. 
In  the  morning  and  in  the  evening  he  called  the  vil- 
lagers to  assemble  and  he  read  to  them  the  Word  of 
God  and  prayed.  More  and  more  of  the  villagers  an- 
swered the  call  to  these  daily  gatherings,  when  the 
book  of  God  was  opened  up  to  them  by  a  little  lad. 
On  a  Sunday  he  called  them  for  a  service,  and  they 
began  to  learn  the  custom  of  the  service,  singing  with 
the  school  children,  and  stumbling  along  with  the 
recitation  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  the  Ten  Command- 
ments. 

In  all  these  matters  Mejo  tried  to  conduct  himself 
like  Assam.  He  was  not  thinking  now  of  Livingstone 
or  Susi  or  Chuma — ^he  was  remembering  his  brother 
Assam,  who  was  so  kind  and  so  dignified  and  so  quiet. 
When  in  the  morning  he  opened  the  school,  standing 
by  his  table  before  the  rows  of  boys, — so  many  of  them 
bigger  and  older  than  himself — he  stood  like  Assam. 
He  met  all  those  attentive  eyes  with  Assam's  expres- 
sion, and  in  the  voice  of  Assam  he  gave  his  orders. 
He  had  no  time  to  be  frightened  or  to  be  proud. 

He  put  the  boys  who  were  studying  the  advanced 
charts  over  the  laggards  who  were  still  stumbling 
through  the  alphabet.  He  exacted,  with  a  severity 
which  he  had  learned  from  Assam,  a  good  physical  dis- 


lOf  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

cipline.  Classes  rose  on  signal  like  one  man.  Silence 
reigned,  broken  only  by  the  murmur  of  recitations ;  an 
austere  little  teacher  hunted  and  reproved  dirty  hands 
and  jiggered  feet  from  class  to  class. 

Bekalli,  swaggering  into  the  school  one  day  early  in 
Assam's  absence,  was  greeted  in  order.  The  school 
rose  like  a  machine;  many  voices  like  one  voice  said, 

"Our  chief!  Mbolo." 

And  like  a  machine  the  many  brown  bodies  were 
seated. 

"Ah,  Mbolani,"  murmured  Bekalli,  looking  at  them 
a  little  awed.  In  action  like  this  all  these  boys  and 
youths  seemed  strange  to  him, — no  longer  like  his 
neighbors  and  companions.  Of  course  he  was,  in  his 
father's  absence,  the  keeper  of  the  town.  He  came  in 
often  after  this ;  they  saluted  him,  and  he  returned  the 
salutation. 

The  teacher  and  the  young  headman  never  spoke 
together.  But  neither  did  the  headman  further  perse- 
cute the  teacher.  Bekalli  adopted  more  and  more  the 
manner  of  his  father,  Efa,  and  Mejo  was  more  and  more 
like  his  brother,  Assam. 

Asala  and  Bilo'o  came  every  night  to  the  hut  outside 
the  village,  and  no  longer  in  secret.  Bekalli  knew  of 
their  visits,  but  made  no  prohibition.  Other  women 
began  to  visit  Mejo  with  little  presents  of  food.  School 
boys  continually  hung  about  the  door  of  that  hut  to 
observe  and  admire  their  teacher.  Imitations  of 
Assam's  msmner,  passed  on  through  Mejo,  began  to  be 
seen  in  every  village  of  that  neighborhood  and  upon 
every  path. 

Thus  it  was  that  Assam  returned  to  find  Mejo  in  a 
great  peace  and  busyness.    On  a  day  after  the  making 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  ADVENTURERS         107 

of  the  new  moon,  when  the  sun  was  in  the  middle  and 
the  boys  were  filing  out  of  school,  the  cry  went  up — 

"B'asoya!"  (They  have  come.)  And  there  was  a 
stampede.  All  the  school  boys  and  all  the  villagers  ran 
to  the  path  that  came  from  the  west.  Mejo  stood  at 
the  door  of  the  school.  He  saw  Efa  come  from  the 
shade  of  the  path  into  the  violent  sunlight  of  the  clear- 
ing. Efa  wore  a  felt  hat  and  a  gorgeous  loin  cloth.  A 
leopard's  skin  hung  upon  his  shoulders.  He  carried  a 
staff.  He  was  laughing.  A  great  sound  of  shouting 
and  of  laughter  filled  the  clearing.  Brown  bodies,  big 
and  little,  pressed  about  Efa. 

Presently  Mejo  saw  the  dear  body  of  Assam  move 
away  from  the  crowd.  Assam  was  looking  for  his 
little  brother. 

"Is  he  well?"  he  asked  one  and  another  of  the  school 
boys. 

"Certainly  he  is  well!"  they  answered.  And  Assam 
saw  Mejo  come  to  meet  him  from  under  the  eaves  of 
the  school  house. 

They  met,  greeting  one  another  with  their  eyes. 
They  could  not  speak  their  hearts  out  in  that  public 
place,  with  school  boys  gathering  about  them.  Assam 
gave  Mejo  his  lantern  and  a  little  pack  he  carried  on 
his  head. 

"Why  do  you  go  upon  that  path?"  he  asked  his  little 
brother,  when  Mejo  turned  out  of  the  clearing. 

"Our  house  is  upon  this  path,"  said  Mejo. 

Assam  turned  to  the  many  boys  who  crowded  at  his 
heels — 

"Go  home,"  he  said,  "let  two  brothers  speak  together 
in  peace." 

And  a  great  peace  fell  about  the  two  sons  of  Akulu 


108  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

Mejo  where  they  sat  together  during  the  noon  hour  in 
that  little  hut  that  was  away  from  the  clamor  of  the 
village.  Only  a  little  girl  came  to  salute  her  elder 
brother, — ^to  bring  him  food  and  to  sit  upon  his  knees 
in  the  old  Bulu  custom  of  greeting  when  the  young  of 
the  family  salute  their  elders. 

All  the  news  of  their  father's  town  was  good  and 
all  the  news  of  the  journey.  Efa's  healing  was  a  good 
healing.  The  doctor  said  that  Efa's  sickness  was  a 
sickness  from  eating  meat  that  was  too  ojd.  Perhaps 
the  meat  of  the  leopard  was  too  old  when  Efa  ate  the 
last  of  that  meat.  Now  that  he  was  well  again  he  was 
a  g^eat  friend  to  Assam,  and  to  others  of  the  tribe  of 
God. 

"He  and  the  real  men  of  the  tribe  of  God  have 
spoken  much  together  of  the  things  of  God.  He  has 
asked  me  every  day  upon  the  path  many  questions 
about  these  things — as  a  man  asks  when  the  spirit  of 
God  knocks  at  the  door  of  his  heart." 

"Then  he  will  be  a  great  friend  to  our  school,"  said 
Mejo,  "and  it  will  be  more  than  ever  a  good  schooL" 

"Silly !"  said  Assam,  laughing.  "Did  you  not  see  the 
rain  fall  yesterday?" 

"I  saw  it,— the  first  rain  of  the  rainy  season.** 

"Did  you  not  know  that  the  first  rain  is  the  sign  to 
close  the  vacation  school  and  to  return  to  the  station 
school?  Mr.  Krug  said  to  me,  'Return  with  Efa, 
close  the  school  well,  and  bring  back  all  the  boys  who 
begin  to  read  the  primer.' " 

Mejo  looked  at  his  brother  in  astonishment. 

"You  speak  the  truth !  The  months  of  village  school 
are  now  three  months.     But  I  had  forgotten!" 

"Do  any  of  the  boys  begin  to  read  in  the  primer?" 
asked  Assam. 


o 

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THE  RETURN  OF  THE  ADVENTURERS         109 

"Two  tens  of  boys  read  in  the  book.  Ten  of  them 
read  the  lesson  about  the  cutlass,  but  the  clever  ten 
read  about  the  elephant." 

"A  good  real  reading  or  a  speaking  by  heart?" 

"A  good  real  reading — that  begins  in  the  middle  if 
you  choose." 

"Fine !"  said  Assam.    "I  give  thanks." 

"Ah,  Assam,"  said  Asala. 

"Speak!" 

"I  too  am  reading — I  read  about  the  elephant-!" 

"I  have  a  great  word  for  you,"  said  Assam.  "Mr. 
Krug  was  speaking  with  Efa.  He  told  Efa  that  you 
must  return  with  us  to  school,  he  promised  Efa  that 
the  white  woman  would  care  for  you  day  and  night. 
He  said  that  you  would  learn  all  the  things  of  the 
black  women  that  are  good  things, — farming  and  cook- 
ing and  to  keep  a  house.  He  said  you  would  learn  obe- 
dience, and  to  speak  with  a  good  mouth.  And  the 
word  of  God  you  would  learn.  Efa  said,  'Well.  Those 
were  good  things  to  learn.*  He  said  that  he  would 
trust  the  white  woman  to  keep  you,  because  that  wo- 
man is  the  wife  of  the  doctor  who  healed  him.  So  you 
return  with  us !" 

"What  shall  I  say !"  said  Asala,  and  her  little  brown 
face  was  astonished. 

"Eh — my  mother !"  she  whispered. 

"Another  thing  Efa  told  Mr.  Krug.  He  said  that  he 
meant  to  give  you  away  when  you  were  no  longer  a 
child,  but  a  girl  to  be  married.  He  means  to  give  you 
to  his  son  Bekalli." 

Asala  turned  her  back  upon  her  brothers  and  looked 
at  the  wall.  They  did  not  speak  to  her  further.  Mejo 
told  Assam  how  Bekalli   stole  his  house. 


110  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

"What  other  deeds  of  hate  has  he  done?" 

"None." 

"That  is  good,"  said  Assam  thoughtfully,  looking  at 
his  little  brother. 

"Ah,  Mejo,  God  has  given  you  wisdom  in  these  days 
to  do  His  work  well.  What  is  your  name  now — 
Susi  or  Chuma  or  perhaps  Livingstone?" 

"Don't  tease  me,"  said  Mejo.  "And  truly  I  had  for- 
gotten about  the  choosing  of  names !" 

Three  days  later,  those  boys  who  had  begun  to  read 
from  the  primer  packed  their  little  loads.  From  their 
mothers  they  begged  food  for  the  journey.  From  their 
fathers  they  begged  leave  to  go  to  the  white  man's 
school.  The  caravan  gathered  in  Efa  Nlem's  town. 
Assam  and  Mejo  sat  in  the  palaver  house  beside  their 
own  loads,  and  the  loads  of  goods  that  had  been  paid 
in  for  school  tuition,  and  that  must  now  be  carried  to 
the  Mission  station  by  the  school  boys. 

At  noon  the  little  caravan  moved  away ;  twenty  boys 
and  a  happy  little  girl  followed  the  young  teachers. 
There  was  a  gay  clamor  and  laughter,  last  good-byes 
were  called  and  the  voice  of  youth,  set  out  upon  the 
path  of  progress,  died  away  in  the  forest. 

"Besom  b'akele  he!"  sighed  those  women  whose 
hearts  had  been  touched  by  the  Things  of  God.  And 
Bilo'o  said  to  them, — 

"Some  day  we  will  beg  Efa  to  let  us  make  them  a 
visit.  Then  we  will  cook  them  a  present  of  food.  And 
when  we  come  to  the  white  man's  town,  we  will  see 
the  tribe  of  God  gather  under  the  great  roof  that  is 
there." 

So  those  who  were  left  behind  spoke  together  all 
day,  and  remembered  the  absent.     But  these,  on  the 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  ADVENTURERS         111 

journey,  spoke  continually  of  the  new  things  they  were 
to  see  in  school. 

They  slept  that  night  in  a  new  clearing  where  a 
headman  was  building  a  town.  In  the  street  of  this 
half-built  town  two  great  logs,  the  last  of  the  debris  of 
the  forest,  were  still  burning.  The  boys  ranged  them- 
selves the  length  of  this  low  fire.  They  set  their 
kettles  upon  it  here  and  there,  they  waited  under  the 
stars  for  their  supper  to  cook.  Asala  was  busy  cooking 
for  her  brothers;  they  too  sat  beside  the  fire. 

Suddenly  from  the  dark  about  them  a  young  man 
appeared ;  he  sat  down  beside  them.  In  the  light  of  the 
fire  Mejo  saw  with  a  great  astonishment  that  it  was 
Bekalli.    And  he  looked  at  Assam. 

"Bekalli,  Mbolo,"  said  Assam. 

"Ah,  Mbolo,"  said  Bekalli. 

"Are  you  going  to  the  beach?"  asked  Assam  after  a 
pause. 

"Not  to  the  beach,  but  to  school.  I  am  walking  in 
your  caravan  to  school." 

Assam  said  nothing,  he  looked  embarrassed.  Mejo 
noticed  that,  and  so  did  Bekalli. 

"Isn't  it  good?"  he  asked,  quite  humbly. 

"It  would  be  good,"  said  Assam.  "Certainly  good — 
if  you  could  read.  But  I  fear  for  you  with  Mr.  Krug 
when  you  tell  him  that  you  cannot  read.  Then  per- 
haps he  will  send  you  away,  and  you  will  feel  shame 
and  I  will  feel  sorrow." 

"I  can  read,"  said  Bekalli,  still  humbly.  "My  little 
brothers  taught  me  to  read  all  the  charts,  and  when  I 
went  too  fast  for  them  and  wished  to  learn  to  read  in 
a  book,  then  Asala  taught  me." 

"I  hear,  and  it  is  good.  Good  for  you  and  for  us 
all." 


112  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

Mejo  said  nothing  and  Assam  said  no  more.  Asala 
presently  took  her  kettle  off  the  fire ;  upon  tiiree  clean 
squares  torn  off  a  green  plaintain  leaf  she  put  the 
smoking  plaintains  that  she  had  baked  in  the  hot  ashes. 
These  she  laid  at  the  feet  of  the  three  boys.  They 
dipped,  each  with  his  own  wooden  spoon,  their  supper 
of  greens  from  the  common  kettle.  She  herself  stood 
aside  until  they  should  finish,  but  Assam  said  to  her, 

"Eat,  then." 

Arid  she  dipped  her  little  folded  leaf  with  the  others. 

"Asala  is  a  strange  child,"  murmured  Mejo  to  Assam, 
when  they  lay  together  upon  a  bed  of  the  palaver  house 
that  night.  "Don't  you  fear  that  she  will  be  too 
proud?" 

"I  don't  see  it  yet- — she  carries  herself  well.  Don't 
hang  your  heart  up  about  Asala,  but  watch  your  own 
walk." 

"I  hear,"  said  Mejo. 

"On  the  last  day  of  that  journey  they  met,  at  every 
forking  of  the  way,  other  such  caravans  of  eager  youth. 
Obam  they  met,  followed  by  seven  dwarf  boys,  and 
carried  by  two  dwarf  men.  From  his  hammock  made  of 
a  blanket  Obam  told  them  that  he  had  sprained  his 
ankle. 

"These  Bulu  boys,"  said  the  dwarf  man  who  carried 
the  foot  of  the  hammock,  "are  wise  in  the  things  of 
books ;  many  things  of  the  things  of  God  they  teach  us. 
But  the  day  they  follow  the  dwarf  people  up  the  face 
of  a  cliff  they  are  as  stupid  as  women.  We  said  to 
Obam: 

'Are  you  a  dwarf  that  you  should  climb  Nko'ovas? 
A  teacher  that  breathes  is  better  than  a  dead  one !'  '* 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  ADVENTURERS        113 

"Even  so,  he  tried  to  follow  us,  and  from  that  day  he 
taught  his  people  from  a  bed.  Everywhere  we  have 
gone  in  the  forest  we  have  carried  him — as  if  he  were 
an  elephant's  tusk  of  great  weight  and  of  great  value !" 

The  dwarfs  laughed  and  everybody  laughed.  Obam 
put  his  head  out  of  the  hammock  and  laughed,  looking 
at  Assam. 

"As  I  say,"  continued  the  dwarf.  "And  now  we  re- 
turn our  elephant's  tusk  to  the  rich  man's  town.  We 
say  to  that  great  chief, — 'Keep  for  us  this  treasiure 
while  we  leave  it  here.  And  when  we  return  in  the  dry 
season,  give  it  to  us  again,  that  we  may  bear  it  to  our 
own  place !' " 

"Akeva !"  said  Obam  from  his  hammock. 

Bekalli,  from  his  place  in  the  growing  file  of  school 
boys,  saw  many  of  his  own  age  among  the  strangers 
that  came  in  from  the  many  paths  of  the  forest.  Greet- 
ings were  shouted  from  teacher  to  teacher,  for  these 
teachers  were  classmates  of  old.  And  presently  these 
caravans,  made  up  of  little  community  groups,  began 
to  sing.  Snaking  along  the  trail  that  wound  its  way 
among  the  great  trees,  the  long  file  of  youth  began  to 
sing;  and  they  moved  to  the  rhythm  of  the  air — 

"Those  people  are  as  many  as  the  sands 
"They  are  many  as  the  sands  of  the  sea!" 

"I  understand,"  thought  Bekalli  to  himself,  "that 
they  sing  of  the  new  tribe.  And  I  begin  to  see  that  the 
people  of  the  new  tribe  are  many.  It  is  well  that  I  see 
this  thing  with  my  own  eyes — otherwise  I  could  not 
know  it.  And  a  fine  young  man  like  myself  must  know 
these  new  things,  he  must  know,  that  he  may  choose." 

"One  more  stream  to  cross,"  shouted  the  teachers  to 


114  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

the  strangers,  "then  you  will  see  the  cassava  gardens 
of  the  mission." 

And  in  the  evening  light  the  stream  of  school  boys 
poured  in  to  the  clearing  of  the  Mission  station. 

"They  certainly  say,"  thought  Bekalli  to  himself, 
"that  the  new  tribe  is  as  abundant  as  rain.  And  I  see 
for  myself  that  in  this  place  the  many  little  streams 
gather  to  a  great  pool!" 

The  clearing  was  full  of  the  bodies  of  school  boys — 
old  and  new.  The  old  boys  were  calling  greetings  to 
their  friends.  The  new  boys  were  turning  their  heads 
this  way  and  that  as  their  teachers  said : 

"That  big  house  is  the  house  of  God." 

"That  big  house  is  the  upper  school,  and  beyond  is 
the  lower  school  where  you  will  enter." 

"That  fine  house  with  the  iron  roof  is  the  medicine 
house,  where  the  doctor  does  the  work  of  healing. 
Those  houses  beside  it,  like  a  little  village,  is  the  vil- 
lage of  the  sick  people." 

"That  little  village  down  that  path  with  the  fine 
houses  all  of  plank,  is  the  town  of  the  carpenters  and 
the  blacksmiths  and  the  wise  ones  who  are  taught  to 
work  with  the  hands." 

"What  a  town!"  thought  Bekalli.  "I  am  dead  with 
wonder !"  He  felt  his  Bulu  pride  fall  from  him  and  he 
had  a  wish  to  run  away  from  this  place  where  his 
youth  and  beauty  could  not  distinguish  him. 

Assam  drew  near  to  him.  "You  feel  strange  to- 
night," said  Assam.  "As  I  did  one  day  many  dry  sea- 
sons back.  I  beg  you  to  endure  the  strangeness  and 
the  loneliness.  Ah,  Bekalli,"  said  Assam,  "for  the  sake 
of  your  clan,  and  the  day  that  you  will  be  headman 
in  the  seat  of  your  father — I  beg  you  to  endure !  Like 
a  cutlass  that  must  be  sharpened  on  a  stone  for  a 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  ADVENTURERS        115 

great  work  to  be  done,  so  I  beg  you  to  endure  the 
hard  things  of  school !" 

"I  hear,"  said  Bekalli.    "Akeva." 

The  beginning  of  a  love  for  Assam  was  in  his  heart. 
And  that  night  when  he  sat  under  the  eaves  of  one  of 
the  ten  great  houses  that  were  the  boys'  town,  he  re- 
membered that  word.  About  him  in  the  clearing  be- 
tween the  two  rows  of  houses,  the  hundreds  of  young 
bodies  gesticulated.  At  one  end  of  the  village  there 
was  drumming  and  dancing.  At  the  other  end  beside 
many  little  fires  groups  of  boys  were  cooking  their 
evening  meal.  A  joyous  clamor  rose  from  this  com- 
pound to  the  night  sky. 

Bekalli  held  in  his  hand  a  cutlass — the  tool  that  had 
been  given  him  by  the  headman  of  the  tool  house.  And 
ten  boys  had  been  given  him  for  a  work-gang. 

"Tomorrow  morning,"  he  had  been  told,  "when  the 
drum  calls  to  work,  and  before  the  time  of  school,  you 
will  go  with  many  others  to  clear  for  a  new  garden. 
The  white  man  is  making  a  rubber  plantation,  and 
your  gang  goes  to  the  clearing.  This  work  that  you  do 
buys  your  food  for  the  day.  Every  morning  you  work 
and  that  work  buys  your  food.    Every  boy  works." 

"I  understand,"  said  Bekalli  when  he  received  his 
cutlass.  But  he  did  not  altogether  understand.  "Why 
must  I  work  like  a  woman?"  he  thought,  and  he  re- 
membered as  he  sat  in  the  dusk,  turning  his  cutlass 
over  in  his  hand,  the  word  of  Assam. 

"He  said,"  thought  Bekalli,  "that  I  was  like  a  cutlass 
that  must  be  sharpened  for  a  great  work.  And  the 
school  is  the  grindstone.  All  these  strange  things  of 
work  are  the  grindstone.  Assam  himself  has  been 
ground  on  that  stone.  I  agree  that  he  is  sharp  and 
bright.     His  nickname  is — *He  stands  like  a  dagger!' 


116  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

It  remains  for  me  to  endure !"    And  Bekalli  joined  the 
little  brothers  of  his  clan  about  a  kettle. 

About  a  kettle  in  the  palaver  house  of  Akulu  Mejo, 
Assam  told  the  news  to  his  own  clan.  Mejo  sat  near 
his  father,  who  gave  him  a  chicken  leg  from  his  own 
portion. 

"Perhaps  you  are  not  to  be  stupid,"  said  Akulu  Mejo 
to  Mejo.  "This  news  of  the  school  is  great.  You  did 
that  work  well.  These  sons  of  mine  who  are  Chris- 
tians make  me  famous."    And  Akulu  laughed. 

"Go  salute  your  mother  in  her  house,"  he  told  Mejo. 

There  by  the  firelight  Mejo  found  his  mother  and 
his  sister.  In  the  morning  Asala  must  enter  the  girls' 
school,  with  the  girls  she  must  work  in  the  garden,  in 
the  clean  compound  of  the  girls'  town  she  must  live 
under  the  eye  of  the  white  woman.  She  must  cook 
with  a  new  cleanliness  in  the  kettles  of  that  town. 
She  must  wash  her  little  belongings  in  the  running 
stream,  she  must  learn  to  sew,  and  all  the  afternoons 
she  must  learn  the  things  of  school  under  the  thatch 
of  the  girls'  school,  with  many  tens  of  girls. 

"I  shall  like  it,"  she  told  her  mother.  "But  tonight 
let  me  sleep  by  you  on  your  bed!" 

Presently  the  great  army  of  the  rain  came  trampling 
out  of  the  forest.  The  sound  of  its  passing  in  the  night 
was  an  uproar.  It  raged  upon  the  roofs  of  the  girls' 
town  and  upon  the  roofs  of  the  boys'  town.  On  the 
many  rough  beds  the  tired  bodies  of  little  African  ad- 
venturers came  to  rest.  They  fell  asleep  under  the 
familiar  tumult  of  the  rain  upon  the  roof.  Lulled  by 
that  tumult  Asala  slept  besjde  her  mother.  Mejo  slept 
upon  his  own  bed.  Assam  sitting  by  his  table  in  the 
lantern  light  casting  up  his  school  accounts  grew 
drowsy  with  the  sound  of  rain.  He  put  his  books  aside, 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  ADVENTURERS         117 

and  his  eye  fell  upon  the  fly  leaf  of  Mejo's  Bible,  still 
open  at  this  legend, — 

LIVINGSTONE  MEJO  AKULU 

and  below  that  written  at  another  time, — 

CHUMA  MEJO  AKULU 

and  written  tonight  in  ink  that  was  just  dry, — 

MEJO  AKULU,  TEACHER  OF  THE  SCHOOL 
OF  MEKOK. 

Assam  laughed.  "What  a  strange  boy!"  he  said,  as 
he  put  out  the  light  and  laid  his  weary  body  down  be- 
side the  weary  body  of  his  little  brother.    And  he  said, 

"Mejo  Akulu,  teacher  of  schools, — I  salute  you!" 

A  KOTE  FOR  CHAPTER  VI. 

Here  is  an  end  of  a  story  which  is  all  within  the  limits  of 
every-day  life  in  our  part  of  the  forest.  In  every  established 
Africa  Mission  there  are  such  great  centers  for  the  education 
of  boys  and  girls.  And  in  every  such  center  many  such 
young  people  as  Assam,  Mejo,  Bekalli  and  Asala  are  being 
sharpened  on  the  grindstone  of  school  for  the  hand  of  our 
Lord  Jesus,  the  great  master  and  user  of  tools. 


118  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

SOME  BOOKS  THAT  MIGHT  BE  READ  BY  THE 
STUDENTS  OF  AFRICAN  ADVENTURERS 

Missionary  Heroes  in  Africa;  J.  C.  Lambert,  1912 75c. 

Uganda's  White  Man  of  Work;  Sophia  Lyons  Fahs;  Missionary 
Eiducation  Movement,  New  York,  1912 60c. 

Lion-Hearted,  The  Story  of  Bishop  Hannington's  Life;  E.  C.  Daw- 
son; J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Boston,  1912 

Livingstone,  the  Pathfinder;  Basil  Mathews;  Missionary  Ekiucation 
Movement,  New  York,  1912 50c. 

Livingstone  Hero  Stories;  Susan  Mendenhall;  Missionary  Education 
Movement,  New  York,  1912 15c. 

God's  Image  in  Ebony;  J.  H.  Darlow;  Missionary  Eklucation  Move- 
ment, New  York,  1914 50c. 

Black  Tales  for  White  Children;  C.  H.  Stigand;  Houghton  MiffUn, 
1914 $1.50 

BOOKS  THAT  CAN  BE  RECOMMENDED 
TO  THE  TEACHER 

God's  Image  in  Ebony  (see  above).  Excellent  history  of  African 
Missions  written  "for  senior  schoolboys."  Hard  to  get  in 
this  country 50c. 

Savage  Childhood;  Dudley  Kidd;  MacMillan  85  Co.,  New  York,  1906 

• $3.50 

Africa,  Facts  from  Foreign  Mission  Fields;  Women's  Foreign  Mis- 
sionary Society,  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  581  Boyleston 

St.,  Boston 5c. 

An  excellent  leaflet. 


SOME  LEAFLETS 

At  Dawn;  Lydia  J.  Wellman,  1913;  Women's  Board  of  Missions  of 
the  Interior,  19  South  La  Salle  St.,  Chicago 5c. 

Dweshula;  Mrs.  Amy  Bridges  Cowler;  American  Board,  704  Con- 
gregational House,  Boston 2c.,  per  doz.,  20c. 


>  SOME  LEAFLETS  119 

The  Blind  Zulu's  Story;  Gertrude  Hance;  Woman's  Board  of  Mis- 
sions, 704  Congregational  House,  Boston 2c.,  per  doz.,  20c. 

Autobiography  of  Vinda  Bidiloa,  A  Congo  Evangelist;  American 
Baptist  Missionary  Union,  Boston Ic. 

A  Story  in  Pictures;  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  Board,  156  Fifth 
Avenue,  New  York 5c 

Africa,  The  Congo  Mission  (Quick  information  series);  American 
Baptist  Foreign  Missionary  Society,  Ford  Building,  Boston, 
1913 

The  African  Drum;  A.  W.  Halsey,  D.D.;  Women's  Board  of  Foreign 
Missions  of  Presbyterian  Church,  156  Fifth  Ave.,  New  York 
2c.,  per  doz.,  15c. 

An  African  Heroine;  Nettie  Carlisle;  Women's  Board  of  Foreign 
Missions  of  Presbyterian  Church,  156  Fifth  Avenue,  New 
York Ic,  per  doz.,  10c. 

The  Brave  Hunchback;  Rev.  W.  H.  Stapleton;  Women's  Board  of 
Foreign  Missions  of  Presbyterian  Church,  156  Fifth  Avenue, 
New  York 2c.,  per  doz.,  15c. 

Other  Children;  Jean  K.  Mackenzie;  Women's  Board  of  Foreign 
Missions  of  Presbyterian  Church,  156  Fifth  Avenue,  New 
York 2c.,  per  doz.,  20c. 


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